Logging on

I've never ordered logs before - but bearing in mind the cottage has no central heating, it was time to buy some warm for the winter.

Where does one start? Well, with googling local suppliers and focusing on those that seem to be reasonably priced, and who offer free local delivery.

I blithely placed an order for a 'full-load'. Then ran out of the logs that had been kindly left in the shed, and bought a small mesh-bag from a garage. The woodburner didn't like these logs. Too big. Too damp.

This was on a Friday, and my log order was due on the Monday.

So first thing on Monday morning, I called my logman (as I can now refer to him) to ask about the size of the logs, and explained that the big ones didn't seem to burn too well. In London, this would have probably been met with a 'you get what you ordered' mentality. In this case, he asked about the woodburner, the size of the logs I wanted, if I'd ever bought logs before, and if I was sure I wanted 'a full-load' in case I couldn't store it all properly. And did I want them stacked?

I opted for a half-load (non-stacked) instead of the full-load, to see how I got on. And while this effectively halved the value of the order, means he is now my logman of choice, for as long as I'm requiring logs. (Customer loyalty, see? Give good service and you get it).

He deposited all the logs in a big loggy pile next to the Maxi a few hours later. Which I then moved, wheelbarrow by wheelbarrow, into a pile inside the woodshed.

*Fill with logs, doooooown the steep bit, across the back of the cottage, uuuuuuup the less steep bit, across the lawn. Shed. Empty. Stack. Dooooown the less steep bit, across the back of the cottage, back uuuuuuuup the steep bit, fill with logs*

Darkness fell. Logs still remained by the Maxi. I continued on my wheelbarrow mission. Until the last log was, well if not in the shed (that ran out of room, thank heavens he suggested a half-load), but safely under cover.

I returned to the cottage and sat down. The heavens then opened. I sat smugly by my now roaring fire. "My logs are in, my logs are in, my logs are not getting wet." I thought. Then 15 minutes later I remembered I'd left all the washing on the line.