All Ant

When I was a child I was blessed to grow up in a family that cherished books and reading. My earliest memories are of my father reading me a nightly Brer Rabbit story. Fairy tales that now seem to me quite grizzly in nature were standard fare, and cautionary tales were all the go.

Children who told the odd lie were soundly taught a lesson by being eaten by wolves or, as in poor Matilda's case, burned alive in her own home. Aesop could be relied upon to educate the young mind in simple virtues, and in particular I remember the story of The Ants and the Grasshopper. The ants worked industriously all summer while the grasshopper had a jolly good time leaping about and, rather cleverly for a grasshopper, playing his violin.

Come winter the ants ate their stored food and the grasshopper died of hunger. The ants took no pity and were not inclined to share. The moral was clear (and it wasn't about good Christian charity), but I always felt sad for the grasshopper and it has to be said that the violin is a really cool look for a musician*. My whole life I have been far more of a grasshopper than an ant, in just about every aspect I am a reluctant decision maker and poor self-motivator, so my sympathies were with him. But in one respect I am an ant channeler - I like to be well prepared for winter warmth while still in the heat of summer. And yesterday we were well in the heat of summer. There was a pleasant breeze off the sea, but it did not make it into my garage.

The time was right for the great firewood stack of 2016. Usually I have the wood delivered in three or four lots. But after the first trailer load arrived I listened to my inner ant and went for bust - all the wood, one afternoon, ant attack.

One load ...

... becomes five as the stacking begins ...

... and progress is made.

Three and a half hours later I had pulled off my greatest firewood effort ever.

Beauty thy name is firewood stack.

The garage has been tidied, and what's that extra bit of forward planning? Yes, after five years I've finally refilled the emergency water supply.

I was like an ant on acid. And now I can retreat back into my familiar grasshopper self, safe in the knowledge my work is done and Aesop is appeased.

*DISCLAIMER The violin is never a cool look for a child. I have no idea why, but there is some unwritten rule that a child can only play an untuned violin and must always practise only outside supermarkets or other shops, and is never to attempt any recogniseable melody.

Be afraid, be very afraid.