A Matter of Life or Death . . .

[Clint EastwoodParticipant 323]

I’d be wrong if I was to claim that the wife’s behaviour was the sole reason for my wanting a divorce. In fact our lifestyle, bought on by our line of work and the location of where we live, is almost but not quite, an equally contributing factor.

It would be helpful in writing this story if I was to first give a little background as to how I arrived at my current and sorry, situation.

Fifteen years ago I met my wife. She had quite literally some 2 months previously, bought what I can best describe as a mansion, and in a rather rundown state of repair. She had begun renovating the property and by the time I had arrived, the interior walls had been painted.

To the rear of this sizeable property was a cottage (the one with no central heating or running hot water).

We very quickly ‘hit it off’ and the two of us just as quickly, became ‘a unit’.

Over the following months, we both set to work completing the works to the main house and shortly afterwards, began to let the property as a holiday home.

This as it turns out was an inspired decision. Despite the ‘estate’ being situated quite literally in the middle of nowhere, with the nearest collection of humans some 15 miles away, and the shear lack of any mobile phone signal, large groups would flock towards the house on a weekly basis – no doubt drawn to the novelty of complete seclusion and jaw dropping scenery.

Moving forward a year and one blustery night later, I was introduced to the harsh reality of what I had let myself in for – the local area (as it later transpired), had experienced the worst storm in it’s recorded history.

It was a hateful night. Huddled together through fear and unable to sleep, it wasn’t until the morning that we were able to survey the devastation.

Very quickly I was able to ascertain that our every exit was blocked. Huge pine trees had, somewhat conveniently, fallen across both drives leading to the house. One enormous conifer had landed on the roof of the main house. Another had severed the electricity supply, with it’s ‘friend’ having brought down the phone line. Further, smaller trees numbering about 20 had landed across the length of the drive and 10 more, as I later discovered, also on the public highway/lane some quarter mile away.

With no means of escaping by vehicle, no electricity or telephone, no mobile signal or internet access, and with the nearest person some 15 miles away, we were (to put it mildly) f~~~ed !!!

To add insult to injury, one solitary tree had decided to mate with my VW Camper Van (uninsured restoration project).

Of course something had to be done and fortunately, I had a rather nice and quite capable chainsaw.

Thus began the thankless task of limbing and logging.

We’d decided that the first priority was that a new group of guests were due to arrive in 7 days and despite no electricity or any means of contacting them to cancel the booking, we both agreed that access to the main house was essential.

I commenced chopping and clearing my way through the wall of foliage, the branches being thrown onto several bonfires that would burn continuously for 3 weeks.

Another factor to consider was the not insignificant problem of food.

We had somewhat foolishly allowed supplies to dwindle. After a quick ‘stocktake’, we surmised that the two of us had to survive an unknown period of time on two loaves of bread, cheese, a couple of frozen (and thawing) pizzas, 4 uncooked pork chops, a few potatoes and many tins of peach halves. Not surprisingly, the horses were naturally well catered for, with ample quantities of hard-food and hay.

I quickly suggest that the pizzas and pork chops be wrapped in tin foil and thrown on one of the bonfires to cook, so at least they wouldn’t ‘go off’.

Some 4 days later and with a route now open to the main road, it was here I discovered further obstructions, namely the trees across the main road. Obviously the local council was either unaware of the situation, or were far to busy carrying out other more ‘essential’ work.

Not to worry, 2 days would take care of that.

Then the guests arrived and they were none to pleased. We recounted events and judging by both the area’s appearance and our own, I don’t think they had any reason to doubt us? However they decided not to stay and whilst we were asking (no, begging) for them to take us to a nearby town or at least contact the emergency services, they drove off shouting that they weren’t “going in that direction.” Bastards !!!

At this point, we are now into our 8th day of isolation but at least with the front of the house cleared (except the large tree on the roof), all that would be left is for me to cut a narrow path through the trees to the cottage at the rear, where I would be able to escape on my motocross bike.

Food was running out, I’d grown tired of pretending a peach-half was actually a steak and kidney pie and both of us were beginning to look more than a little unwell.

Two days later, I had chainsawed my way through. Now I could get the motocross bike out. Wearing a rucksack and with a fuel can bungeed to the back, I set off on the 15 mile trip to the nearest town. I can best describe the devastation en-route as a scene from ‘War of the Worlds’.

Arriving at a filling station in order to take on fuel for the chainsaw, the overwhelming fact that I was riding on the road with a machine that was not only unregistered for road use, but also untaxed, uninsured or MOT’d, didn’t escape my mind. Nor did it go unnoticed by a policeman at another fuel pump. He came walking over and with that air of disgust that officers of the law give off so effortlessly.

He notices the lack of registration plate on the back and my obviously dishevelled appearance. I quickly bring him up to speed on how I came to be in this position.

Thankfully it worked, as he took one look at my malnourished and unwashed frame (and probably smell), then quickly became distracted by an old biddy in a Nissan Micra, who’d clearly forgotten the etiquette at traffic roundabouts.

Whilst ‘in town’, I could also make some urgent phone calls and in a short space of time, the electricity company (they had no idea), the phone company (the same) and the local council (ditto), were notified and asked in the politest way possible, to get their fingers outta their arses.

With a rucksack full to the brim with tasty (and non-perishable) supplies, I returned home and set back to work clearing the remains of the trees so that not only could we get out in the car, but so the various utility companies could get in.

Eventually the bulk of the trees were cleared and it became apparent we would be totally self-sufficient in firewood for the next 20 years or so. All that remained was to remove the gigantic conifer that was still laying on (and obscuring) half of the house.

This was easily the most tricky job, as I had to be careful the tree didn’t slide further down the roof, taking the slate tiles with it, or just as bad, come crashing through a window or two.

We were now into the 12th day without electricity, or bathing, or a decent cooked meal. We were at the mercy of the electricity company, who had a habit of turning up (probably to see if we were still alive) and then leaving again, saying that ‘all the teams are tied up’. I began to think that if we were dead, it would at least save them a job?

I’d like to take a moment to point out a little known fact about disaster management in the UK.

You’ve probably seen on the news, footage of towns flooded and under water, or huge snow drifts blocking off entire communities. If so, you’ll also have seen the impressive response times of rescue teams. Re-homing, insulated blankets, soup, community halls full of families consuming hot meals and drinks provided by local residents etc?

What they don’t show are those unfortunate souls on the perimeter. They are left to fend for themselves and can quite frankly, f~~~ off !!!

Now back to working on the big tree that had fallen on the house. It was a slow process, involving standing on an extension-ladder, perched at the top with the chainsaw, and slowly trimming the multitude of branches these bloody great fur trees have.

Over the course of a week or so, not only had I trimmed the entire tree from top to bottom, and removed 4 foot lengths of the main trunk, the electricity supply and phone had been restored.

Finally we could enjoy some freshly cooked food and also begin the important process of making a claim on the buildings insurance, for the cost of clearing and repairing the storm damage.

After what seemed like an eternity, the claim was paid out, and a pretty sum it was to. The cost of works carried out had been phenomenal, as shown by the bogus invoice I’d sent to the insurance company.

Naturally the discussion of what to do with the money took centre stage.

Top of the list was the central heating and hot water issue. Both of us had passionately discussed and wished for such luxuries, so this was the agreement made.

The thought had also crossed my mind that possibly the wife may suggest the money be split 50-50? Both of us had suffered greatly and worked ourselves to the bone in the process.

It wasn’t to be and if you’ve read another of my stories on the forum, you’ll be all to aware of the ‘Arena Saga’. That then is what happened to the insurance payout (and more).

So ended my first introduction to the delights of ‘this’ marriage – a regime that, despite now entering the divorce stage, she attempts to enforce to this day on an hour by hour basis.

“You’ve got to be off your trolley . . . darling !”

Stay vigilant. They're everywhere.

[HitmanParticipant]

welcome .
you did what you had to do to survive.
us men have been programmed from birth to act as you did.
please don’t be too tough on yourself.
.
now it’s time for you to focus on saving yourself.
thanks for the interesting read,
that was in the past,
so do what you have to do now,
and take some good luck with you !!!
be strong my friend,
things tend to work out somehow..

[Solo MAN’S WisdomParticipant]

Between this and the horse arena, you’ve been through the f~~~er. Love the Avatar, by the way. JP is one of my favorite guitarists.

When women lead, destruction is the destination. -- Me.

[Clint EastwoodParticipant 323]

Solo MAN’S Wisdom wrote:

Between this and the horse arena, you’ve been through the f~~~er. Love the Avatar, by the way. JP is one of my favorite guitarists.

All hail Mr Page, his playing has helped me through many a low point.

There’s worse to come I’m afraid. I haven’t got to the kitchen episode yet. 🙂

Oh if ever there was a ‘straw that broke the camel’s back’.

Stay vigilant. They're everywhere.

[Better without YOUParticipant 234]

This read as a novel, you have a nack for writing I must say.

[Clint EastwoodParticipant 323]

Try saying no to everything for ine year. See how much better life is.

So true, the word no is becoming a frequently used part of my vocabulary. In the interest of the divorce process, I’m trying really hard not to introduce other, more colourful words. 🙂

Stay vigilant. They're everywhere.

[Clint EastwoodParticipant 323]

Better without YOU wrote:

This read as a novel . . .

Thank you.

I must say the thought has crossed my mind on a few occasions.

Humm, “Tales from the Inside.”

Though I expect the feminist soldiers would do their best to get it banned on the grounds of chauvanism or some such?

Stay vigilant. They're everywhere.

[Author]

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