Log Blog

When I mention the word Ibiza and organisation in the same sentence it'll be immediately apparent that my efforts to organise a delivery of logs will have a comedic outcome.

So, I went to order my winter log store on Monday. I took a carefully drawn non-clickable non-google map with an x marking the spot I wanted the logs. I put careful instructions that I needed one day's notice of when they were coming (so I could advise the neighbours that the path to their garage would be blocked) and a note saying that I definately wouldn't be at the house at One O'clock on Wednesday.

"Don't worry," he said, "we'll ring you well in advance."

See where this is going?

Half past 12 on Wednesday, the phone rang. Surprise, surprise, it was the wood yard. "We're loading your wood now, we'll be there at One!"

Any road, after racing back to the house, the phone rang again, "where's your house?" was the predictable question, "is it white?" less predictable but statistically the most probable here on 'The White Island.'

"Have you not got my non-clickable non-google map pinned to your windscreen in a gps style?" I asked.

"Don't know anything about a map," said the driver.

So I went out, found him, showed him where to drop the logs and luckily, Maria, our neighbour had gone out in the car and wasn't trapped.

Here's the logs, which should see us through the chilly nights until March.