This is completely out of character for me and as such my first ever blog. Mainly for 2 reasons: Time; I have always liked the concept but never found the time to even begin to think about “stuff” to purge from my being, being with sickness has allowed my mind to wander. Secondly I wish to raise a glass to Grannies everywhere.

Scene setting: I am 35; I live in Norfolk and have been married to Jo for 9 years today. She is beautiful in every way, to look at, generous, kind, caring, compassionate and a great friend and she doesn’t really drink so she always drives. We have 2 beautiful children (of course) Harriet 4, and Freddy 2.
Why Grannies I hear you groan? Well, H took a hit and had a wing down as of about mid-Saturday afternoon. She was properly poorly on Sunday which meant she and I had to miss a christening for the son of good friends. Freddy followed suit and I had to pick him up early from nursery on Monday afternoon and he was bad by evening time. On arrival home on Monday afternoon, Granny (my mum) was already there, having been there since lunchtime entertaining H, so that J could work. After an exhausting tea time with much grimacing and gnashing of teeth, the children were finally bathed and in bed. Whilst the bath ordeal was unfolding with granny in charge, I was optimistically packing for an early train journey to London the following day to be talked too relentlessly about the importance of sustainable wood products being imported from the other side of Europe (more later). From London I was to continue my train journey to Exeter for the rest of the week to be very important and carry out audits on colleagues (not more later). I say optimistically packing as by this time (18:30) I had been feeling the effects of F & H’s illness for a couple of hours, with the full gambit being thrown at me shivering, hot flushes (I thought only ladies of a certain age got these), throat glands the size of kiwi’s which felt like they were on fire and every muscle and sinew aching as though I had spent the day folded up and crammed in a biscuit tin.

As granny was gathering her stuff to leave and putting on her shoes she wisely said “you should have a strong, hot whiskey, lemon and honey to sort you out. Wise words, but ones that had to be responded to with, “I don’t have any whiskey as it always get drunk”, and "or lemon for that matter". Granny duly left at just after 19:00. I continued to pack an enormous case up stairs as it needed to contain among other things, smart boots, rough boots and wellies for site visits, my work laptop, my personal notebook, and a change of clothes for all eventualities for 3 nights and 4 days. After 20 minutes Jo shouted up and said my mum had returned bearing gifts. As I got down stairs I saw on the dinning table, 2 lemons, a jar of honey and a bottle of scotch, and no mum. This was one of the kindest things anybody had ever done for me. Mum had arrived at the village shop after opening hours, knocked it up (not robbing you realise) and managed to convince the proprietor to sell her these tincture ingredients. I finished packing, made my self 2 exceedingly large and probably too strong whiskey tinctures and retired to bed. I awoke in the morning after several awakenings through poorly F & H and my own problems of basting in my own cold sweat. By morning time J was now also crook to make the full house, and talks were had with a doctor about swine flu, and an appointment made for F. The day was spent on the sofa being educated by brightly coloured children’s TV programmes hosted by presenters from social minority groups, including an amputee and a dwarf ( i doubt you can call them that any more). I learnt how drinking chocolate is made and how to make alien skittles out of empty fizzy pop bottles. I feel a bit more complete as a human being now. J was now competing for world’s sickest person competition (health and not depravity related), but very quietly I knew she should be awarded the cigar, as being a girl she could still function on less than all cylinders and accomplish things like getting dressed and even going outside to let the dog do its business.

Granny, who usually picks H up from school on Tuesday lunchtimes and takes her to ballet, arrived mid afternoon to take the dog away until the end of the week to stop “weak and lack of energy or will to live so forgetting to feed” induced dog demise. That’s help when you need it. Oh she also casually left a cooked chicken, vegetables and a large egg custard as she was leaving. Thank the lord for Grannies.

I suspect we will see a lot more of Granny over the next few days as she brings more supplies and life supporting essentials like lucozade. We love you Granny, thankyou.

So sustainable and legal timber resulting in certification, or is it the other way around? A good concept, one that is only flawed by the fact that it was conceived to stop the terrible destruction of our life’s breath; the rainforests and other major global timber reserves, all of which are located within countries with appalling government track records of corruption and bribery. Certification is a global wide initiative and it is designed to stop the illegal felling of huge tracks of globally crucial carbon sink woodland, for the reclamation of a comparatively low percentage of valuable logs. It works by cutting off a great deal of this illegal timber’s market value by generating a demand and a premium price for that timber which can be demonstrated as coming from a sustainably managed forest. Of course there will always be unscrupulous timber traders and buyers who do not care about the legality of the timber as much as it’s price. Who is not buying a lot of this illegal timber is the western world and developed countries that are fortunate enough to have the wealth and ability to buy the new legal timber becoming available. These customers make up the majority of the recipients for this tropical wood, so the certification initiative is beginning to work as the illegal loggers are finding it harder and harder to find people to sell their wood to.
Now, we in the UK have signed up to this certification which is only right. However, our woodland management and particularly tree felling within the UK is heavily policed by a government organisation called the Forestry Commission. It is illegal to fell trees (there are some exemptions) in the UK without getting a licence/ permission from the FC to do so. Just about every other country in the world does not have a regulatory body that monitor and regulates the felling of trees, particularly these large, developing and corruptly governed countries as discussed above.

Now, I will not bleat on about the state of the forestry industry in the UK, and how successive governments have sold it down the river preferring to buy in timber from their European cousins, and that UK timber prices are the same today as they were 15 years ago, at around £15 / ton. I will also not bang on about the U-boat blockade and that we were allegedly 3 months away form losing the war due to lack of pit props, so much so that it is why the FC was set up to guarantee a “strategic reserve of timber.” But I will have a very small moan about how the certification of timber is effecting UK timber production. It really runs along the lines of the “organic farce”. We the British sign up to it, we carry it out to the letter, wrapping ourselves up in red tape and committing to stricter and stricter regulations, and ensuring the people who regulate it are ex-traffic wardens. The rest of the world say “oh yes governor of course it is all legit” then stamp everything and anything with the organic or FSC logo and sell it to whoever is interested / foolish enough to take the hook, oh and practically wanting to pay a premium for the privilege. Cynical I know but that is the way I am. What I do know is that in my particular position, we cannot use the timer growing on the estate that we manage, that we have processed and turned into fence posts ourselves, because it does not come with a FSC or other proof of sustainable production required. We can and have to at present buy poorer quality and more expensive fence posts from a supplier who has had them shipped over from Latvia or similar honourable European country.

“Sustainable” obviously no longer takes into consideration carbon footprints.

My meeting in London which I should of attended yesterday would of been all about the vertues and importance of buying what I would class as “hooky or bent” sustainable wood from far away places, as apposed to using British timber which would support the British forestry industry and associated jobs and ensure the continued sustainable management of British woodlands. Still what do I know?

Well thank you for listening. Will I blog again? If and when I have time, probably when I will be writing for “Old dad who is no longer useful” blog. God knows I have enough opinions to do a daily slot, just not the time. For now, please join me in raising a glass of hot whiskey, honey and lemon tincture to Grannies everywhere, oh and the British timber Industry.