Chim-chiminey, chim-chiminey ...

I can't sing, although I do have fun searching (usually unsuccessfully) for the notes and have been told that some are alright. This is why I play guitar and drums.

I can't dance - much to Pen's disappointment.

I don't look like Dick Van Dyke, although my impression of a Cockney is streets better than his.

However, I have learnt to sweep chimneys - or more specifically - ours.

Three weeks ago, our wood burner started to behave a little strangely. Firstly, it didn't seem to be performing like we knew it could. That said, we knew that wood burners were reliant upon the wind being in the right direction or sometimes, you just couldn't get them going.

We didn't believe that at first, but we were beginning to.

Also, it was taking forever to get going at all - nearly two hours and we noticed this on a day when there was no wind - so that wasn't a factor.

Then suddenly, we discovered smoke belching from the chimney joints and the wood burner's breather holes, filling the kitchen.

I quickly emptied the fire into the garden - one shovel at a time - and allowed the fire to go out. Fortunately, this was a morning start for the wood burner and we had plenty of time to get in touch with a man we knew in Domfront; a man who had swept our chimney before we'd had the wood burner installed.

He couldn't make it until early the next week and knowing no-one else that could do the job, we borrowed a friends gas heater and waited ...

Upon his arrival, he discovered that he could get to the 45^o elbow in the kitchen, but no further. He had to admit defeat, feeling that the chimney would need to be swept from the top down, for which equipment he didn't possess would be needed. He gave us the phone number of someone he knew that could do the job and left.

I have the utmost respect for someone who can admit if they can't do something. Too often, people blag their way into getting jobs and end up taking the money and running, leaving a huge mess behind them. At least he hadn't done that.

So we phoned this other bloke and asked him to come and sort it out.

Days with multiple phone calls passed until eventually, two of his workers came and began stripping the wood burner down ready to clean out the chimney pipes. We were a little apprehensive as the chap's brush looked a lot like a mangy hedgehog and couldn't possibly have done a very good job cleaning out the pipes. Nevertheless, when they'd finished, the smoke did go up the chimney, although, they left one hell of a mess behind them.

After that, the weather brightened considerably. The days were warm and we didn't need to use the wood burner until the sun went down, but after two weeks, once again, smoke began coming out of the joints. With the kitchen filling with smoke, I emptied the fire and Pen got on the phone to the company who'd cleaned it before - the company which, to this date, still hasn't billed us for the work.

Not that we're at all inclined to pay them anyway.

We couldn't understand how in the two weeks following the cleaning of our chimney, the whole lot should be clogged again. I didn't want the blokes who did it the last time back in the house, but Pen was adamant that they should be given the opportunity to come and rectify the problem we believed they caused.

"I don't know why we don't just buy the brushes and do the work ourselves," I argued. "It's not as if it's particularly difficult - from what I saw."

Well that was all it took.

We bought a set of poles with a 200mm brush, got home and got on with the job. It cost us 20€, which was expensive compared to some places where the price was around 12€, but having seen both, we got our money's worth. Besides, it cost us 50€ to have the chimney swept the first time - it might have been less, but we wanted a certificate for insurance - the brushes were expensive at twenty, but even so, in one use, we saved 30€.

More than that, we can use them again, plus, we discovered that there was no possible way the last people had cleaned the chimney properly, as the elbows were absolutely clogged shut with crud; crud that had probably taken from October when we first began using the wood burner regularly to build up. The quantity of muck was astonishing.

All of this had to be swept up with a dustpan and brush and while it wasn't as dusty as cleaning out the fire itself, the mess was pretty big.

So we began looking into the possibility of getting another vacuum cleaner. I suspect we've all tried cleaning up our DIY mess with a conventional, domestic cleaner, only to look disappointed when it doesn't work properly afterwards. We didn't want to ruin ours, but the price of a sensible work-type cleaner was prohibitive.

Then we discovered the little toy to the right. It's not a vacuum cleaner, but by connecting it to one, it can be used to suck up the crud and dust from the fire - providing it's not still glowing - without clogging up and thereby ruining our domestic one.

We've seen them before and their prices have ranged from about 30€ upwards.

This one?

6€95.

Bargain.

We now have the full set and can clean out our fire and the chimney to our heart's content without ruining our vacuum or having to be on our hands and knees for ages sweeping up the crud!

This led us to ask questions about why we'd ended up blocked up to begin with. Our friend from Domfront was surprised to learn that our chimney was blocked since our wood burner is a French made Invicta, which usually only needs to be cleared once a season. He suggested that it was the wood we were burning.

We explained that we bought what we had been told was well-seasoned oak and beech, but he didn't think so. Neither did the other people who came to clean out our chimney.

From now on, we will be cleaning our chimney more regularly and have made mental notes on what our wood burner's behaviour was like when it became clogged. We will also be asking more questions of our wood suppliers before we hand over the dosh so we don't get caught out like that again.

Spring? Is it too much to hope?

It seems as though it's been ages since we last had a day where it didn't rain. For months, everyday was a wet day and fields had turned into 'ponds' that covered hectares. In fact it's only in the last few days that some fields are once again visible, but water is still running away in torrents and the ground continues to feel more like you're trying to negotiate a swamp.

Last year at this time, they had one night where eighteen inches of snow fell overnight, but it looks (touch wood) as though we will escape that this year, as since Thursday of last week, not only has it been dry, but sunny too. Granted the nights, or at least from sundown onwards are damned cold, but that seems a small price to pay for some good weather after literally months of absolute crap.

Does that mean that spring has sprung?

Well, frankly I think it's too soon to tell for sure, but we've been taking advantage of the sunshine while we can getting out and about and in the garden ... with Biscuit.

Under the strictest supervision, we let our kitty-cat out into the unknown territory that is our napkin of a garden, for the very first time, marveling at how nutty he went at all the new sights, sounds and smells, not to mention the new textures, bugs, bits of dust, leaves and especially, shadows.

We sat on the bench as he gamboled and frolicked, sprinting with utter abandon from the kitchen door, up the garden and into the garage at the other end, making contented 'prooping' noises all the way.

It was nice to see him so happy.

Yesterday, we returned from a lovely, sunny walk to have tea in the garden and Biscuit once again gamboled and frolicked happily.

Monday however, it was a different story.

It appears that our cat is not content to simply bimble around in the space we have, but already wants more. Today, it was all we could do to stop him from leaping up and over our garden wall and getting out into the big, wide world outside.

He was driving me mental as I had work to do in the garage and was running back and forth between it and the house. Everything took twice as long as it should, as I only had to approach the door and there was Biscuit, squirming through between my legs and out into the garden.

The first couple of times this happened, I was able to see the funny side. Thereafter however, I began losing patience. Once, I left him in the shop at the other end of the house and immediately I opened the back door, he shot past me and down the garden path in a blur of fur and paws. He very quickly got wise to being  collected and returned to the house, so it became more difficult to catch on each occasion.

This I fear will only worsen.

I wouldn't mind so much if it weren't for the fact that I had to keep a watchful eye on him ... at all times.

It's true our village isn't big or busy, but there is a through-road that leads from Mantilly to Domfront with traffic that doesn't appear to notice our little village and hacks through at breakneck speed, putting our darling little bundle of curiosity at severe risk. Even the slower moving cars and trucks that pass through the little lane outside our front door wouldn't take the least bit of notice of a little ginger cat and we're afraid that it wouldn't be long before Biscuit was no more than a small orange pancake.

So we cannot let him venture out on his own - for his own safety.

He doesn't see it that way.

There are plans in the offing for a fence that will act as a deterrent, but alas, this can only happen in the future, not immediately. Even when it is up, he's a determined little so-and-so, so he will still have to be supervised - and very closely at that.

Oh joy.

And people wonder why we never had kids...