D.W. Oliver Tree Services Ltd

DWOTS Blog 113
Thank-you for the kind messages, sweets and cards, I do love the attention. Despite the unmentionable infection and yet-to-be- properly- fixed- back thing, I’m jolly well now, though admittedly aided a fair bit by the pharmaceutical industry. To celebrate such wellness, I decided to start packing for this year’s great expedition to the frozen north which is coming up later this summer, getting stuff ready for fishing, camping and some light boating....
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DWOTS Blog 112
Yangs I have had in plenty, so I’m thinking of buying a lottery ticket, because if the ancient Chinese are correct, I’m due a great big Yin anytime now. On Saturday I attempted to start my weekend full of verve and the (belated) joys of Spring, when I suffered something of a set-back. ‘Winnie?’ I called, as politely as possible, given my predicament....
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David wishes to inform you all that there will be a temporary interruption to his usual broadcast. Normal service will be resumed at his earliest convenience. Thank you

DWOTS Blog 111
If you go back a couple of weeks, you’ll notice how I said that life was good and all in the garden was rosy, or words to that effect, and that I was due a few Yangs. Well, I’ve had them now, in spades. I’ve pretty much been in bed, like a Londoner, which I know isn’t the correct procedure for curing back problems, but unfortunately has been the only option, along with copious prescription drugs....
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DWOTS Blog 110
Too many ‘Yins’ have had the inevitable and awful consequence of culminating in a Black Friday of epic proportions, the Yangs are back with a vengeance. Friday June 14th was awful. Firstly, I arrived at a job to the south of here, with Josh and Dougal....
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DWOTS Blog 109
On Sunday Lily and her Viking husband went to Ikea, the 21st Century version of the Scandinavian raids into Europe, plundering our wealth through commerce this time round. They went for ‘stuff’, to furnish the house they’ve bought, (more or less). On their return I asked Billy, the Viking, what they’d bought....
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DWOTS Blog 108
I discovered on Friday that my Jack Wolfskin coat is no longer waterproof. I noticed it during a heated debate with an irritated landowner, on who’s property I was inadvertently trespassing. I knew this fellow, from the 1970’s and during the squabble I pointed out that I’d assumed him to be long dead, as I remembered him as an elderly sort back then.... Surprised though he was, at this irrelevant turn in the topic, the man defended himself. ‘The doctor says I’m middle aged.’ He said, temporarily leaving the question of trespass, for which I had little defence. ‘Middle aged if you expect to live to 160.’ I countered. The fellow took a moment to consider this, then laughed, which I wasn’t expecting. Meanwhile, I noticed that I was getting uncomfortably wet, in the persistent rain, so with the argument more or less settled, (I agreed to move our truck and apologised), I went home to buy a new waterproof. On eBay I found the perfect jacket, a Gore-Tex model in XL with a fashionable look, but missing its hood. At 99pence, I considered it a bargain and noted that the item had been on awhile and attracted no interest, so I made a most generous bid of £2, to ensure that I secured it. Unfortunately, I then went out and forgot about the online auction completely, partly because I was confident my offer was excellent and that the competition for the garment was slack, nobody else bidding. In a fit of excitement, at remembering the auction later, I turned on the auction site that evening, keen to pay for the coat that it may be delivered before the next bout of bad weather. Guess what? Some rotter out-bid me! The item sold for £2.20. So, what’s that all about? Why, when nobody wanted it prior to my bid, did it suddenly attract such a following? Also, how come it was £2.20? That’s just miserly, to offer twenty pence more than me, out of spite I bet, or because someone couldn’t stand seeing me win it, I’ll bet they don’t even wear it, not as often as I would have done anyway. It’s not the first time this has happened either, I tried to buy some size 10 Dr Marten work boots for £4 and was gazumped by a spiteful £5 bid, not two days ago. My guess is that someone who doesn’t like me is deliberately stopping me from winning stuff. I’ve got my suspicions, Stephen Fry, I’m going to have a good look at what he’s wearing next time he pops up on TV, dressed in my clothes I’ll bet!
Lord Dave.
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DWOTS Blog 107
The Microsoft news says that bumble bees are close to extinction. Well, the fellow that wrote that should come to the Kennet Valley and see what he makes of the giant nest of furious bees that took it upon themselves to sting me on the chin when I walked innocently past. Also, there’s quite a number on the wild flowers I planted, and a big swarm of honey bees that did a fly past the other day, not so much ‘close to extinction’, as ‘plentiful’, I must say that I... get a bit fed-up with all the doom- mongering these days.
At work we have been fencing and repairing gutters and tiles, as well as ground work stuff and a few tree jobs, the former has caused the men to request civilian clothing, rather than the heavier tree surgery gear. ‘No.’ I said, quite reasonably, on being asked to fund the new attire, so Philbert showed up in an outfit he purchased himself, which was identical to mine, possibly to try and annoy me. ‘My clothes are like yours.’ He crowed, trying to make it sound as though it had happened by accident. He’d done his hair a bit like mine too, but fluffier. Josh, who boasted that he was going to deliberately wear out his expensive tree surgery trousers out of spite tried to inflame the situation. He has been aggrieved at sanctions imposed to inspire better time keeping, (donations from his bonus, to the homeless fellow who lives in the woods at Christmas), so was quite excitable. ‘Phil and you are the same.’ He said, ignoring the fact that I’m a good foot taller than my doppelganger. Dougal was respectfully silent. Meanwhile, Keegan who joins us on occasion to help fulfil the workload had another happiness- induced facial issue. ‘Why are you gurning so much?’ I asked. The Daisy boyfriend explained that each and every day he was so happy that he couldn’t help smiling with joy, I think I’ve told you all before. ‘It’s got so bad that I couldn’t eat my pasty at lunch time’. He said, cheerfully, going on to show me how the muscles in his jaw had spasmed and stopped his mouth from opening wide enough to eat the pastry nubbin. It’s a nice thing, but I do wonder sometimes why the people who surround me are so peculiar, I seem to stand alone as a beacon of normality in a sea of oddness. Ah well, at least the collie dogs are consistent, and Buddy of course.
Lord Dave.
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DWOTS Blog 106
On Sunday I had a series of blows, the Yang’s I knew were coming after a succession of Yins, or the other way around, I can never remember which is the good one. Firstly, I was in the garden making something pointless, time consuming and inefficient, when Winnie appeared. ‘Look at your hair!’ She said, pointing at my head and laughing. I checked it out in the wing mirror of the van and noted it was lank, greying, greasy and poorly styled, which is how I normall...y wear it these days. ‘What’s up with it?’ I asked, feeling hurt and a bit upset. Winnie had lost interest in my personal fashions and moved on. ‘What are you doing with that old petrol jerry can?’ She was looking at a project of upcycling, the use of an old fuel can for a water storage solution to our forthcoming trip to the Highlands, where I am hoping to do some wild camping on the Western Islands. I’m very excited about this and enthusiastically told her about our drinking water arrangements. ‘I’m not drinking out of that, go and buy a clean water vessel from TH Whites.’ This made me question my own project, so I gave it up and went into the house, despondent and a touch teary. Daisy, who’d been doing night vet nursing greeted me. ‘Did you know I-Tunes is going to end?’ She asked. I didn’t and was devastated, I’ve spent years collecting music (mainly pop from the 1980’s), on the I-Tunes, as well as some audio books and now I presume they’ll all vanish into space, unless I somehow record them all and I’ve no idea how to do that! Why has I-Tunes gone? I thought it was the new thing to replace CDs, so what happens next? Dougal laughed, cruelly. ‘You should have got Spotify.’ He said, using a word I don’t have much experience of. Also, Facebook is out of date, (replaced by Instagram), the new Web-page I made to compliment this blog vanished a few months ago and I had a quarrel with a fellow at a Land Rover store about why I was apparently too stupid to know how to order on-line. Apparently, if you are capable of filling the online ‘basket’, you should be able to pay for it, without ringing up and pestering the staff who seem to have other stuff to do, though I can’t think what that is. To top it all off, Winnie asked what sort of mustard I wanted with my sausages. ‘English or French?’ She asked. I chose English, despite being both a feminist and partly vegan. ‘We only have French.’ My wife smiled as she said it… It’s Philbert’s van MOT today, I hope it passes, there can’t be any more Yangs, surely?
Lord Dave.
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DWOTS Blog 105
There was a massive Facebook backlash, (three people), against me stopping the blog on 104, which made me realise how indispensable and important I am, so I’ve decided to continue awhile. The decision wasn’t at all influenced by the furious attack Daisy made on me regarding the cessation. Encouraged by your enthusiasm I decided to plunge straight into Thursday morning with a quick off the cuff coaching on one of my men, to give me something to report....
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DWOTS Blog 104
Blog 104, marking the first anniversary of such, (more-or-less), should conclude my mission, which was initially to prove that I wasn’t dead, permanently disabled, going bankrupt or moving away. The diary quickly morphed into ‘light entertainment’, largely for the purposes of vanity, and is now pretty pointless. However, because it has never been difficult, nor particularly time consuming to publish a running commentary of life in the Kennet Valley, I’m minded ...
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DWOTS Blog 103
My men went to the pub at the end of last week to enjoy a refreshing drink of beer after a busy time in the heat, to be confronted by a patron who had a strong opinion. ‘David Oliver is a bit of an arse.’ He announced. He then offered one of the team a job, with twice the pay that Josh is currently on, a generous and impressive package, but one that my top man turned down, for reasons better known to himself.... Dougal, who was unaware of this at the time, was outraged, when the incident came to his attention later in the evening. I, on the other hand, was less surprised, it’s not an uncommon happening, to be insulted behind my back, though it doesn’t seem to happen face to face so often, which is odd. The fellow in question was someone who owes me money, for unpaid logs, so in real terms, I feel that his provocative remarks were a bit bold, as well as unkind, given the circumstances. Never mind. In Lockeridge, my Dad is moving out to go and live in Swindon- (mmm?!), I have been helping with the preparations in getting the house ready for the new people who have a young family, so the KV School will be pleased. The villages do change gradually, but at work we have been more involved in West Overton recently, where there seems to be a number of people who don’t think I’m an arse, or at least if they do, they still seem to want our work. The same is true of Marlborough, which is good, because being over busy is better than the opposite. Again, I don’t know whether the majority of them think I’m like a bottom, or simply put up with it to get the work carried out by the men, who do it so well. Winnie, who also doesn’t think I’m an arse (I hope), walked into the kitchen the other day whilst I was cooking a well -earned lunch, toast, made from that horrid, cheap bread that tastes like toilet roll tubes. ‘Your toast is ready.’ She said, untruthfully and popped the uncooked bread out, hurled it onto a plate, then took over the toaster with her own, much finer quality slices, stone baked ciabatta with olives and Mediterranean seasoning. As I chewed sadly on the semi-baked offerings I watched as she relished her own high- quality cuisine and it suddenly dawned on me that I’m gradually losing respect among the family and general community. No matter how many awards and accolades I issue to myself, I still seem to be having trouble with my image and status in most aspects of my life. I thought having a moustache would help, but was told by an old friend that it was, ‘ridiculous’, this week. He at least had the decency to point out my failings directly to me, rather than via a third party. Being related to both Gordon Brown and Anne Widdecombe is ridiculous, (if it is indeed true), but sporting a fashionable face piece isn’t, not in my book anyway. Have a nice Bank Holiday weekend.
Lord Dave.
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DWOTS Blog 102
Daisy and Keegan took Hysteria to a gymkhana event to the east of Reading, coming away with something called a ‘clear round’ in the show jumping, or it might have been cross country. This meant that Dumbo and Muley stood in the field making a horrible shrieking noise all day, which was jolly annoying. Meanwhile, I took Lily and Dougal to help an elderly relative move house.... ‘Can we have lunch now?’ Lily asked, as we set off, at ten in the morning. I said we should do some helping first. ‘How about an ice cream?’ I bought her the snack, from the garage which incidentally seemed to be the subject of some sort of raid by Government forces. ‘I need the toilet.’ This within minutes of arriving in Lockeridge. Lily then worked extremely hard, all day, but demanded lunch at every lull in the packing, reminding me of when she was eighteen months old and used to come to work with me. In the afternoon, Dougal, my daughter and I were rolling up a carpet when it suddenly became much more difficult. ‘Ow!’ Said my son, over and over again. One of his foot- long appendages, hanging from the end of his arms and in the place where most people have hands, had become rolled up with the floor covering. ‘Ooh, it’s my flipper.’ He complained, waving the other ‘hand’ in the air and causing quite a cold wind. Because he was actually very firmly trapped, by keeping my knee on the carpet I was able to keep him in place for a photo, which Lily took and I have attached here. I actually laughed to the point of exhaustion and was further amused by being able to throw bags of rubbish onto his and Lily’s head from the bedroom window later in the day. I know it might seem childish, but you have to make your entertainment where you can when you are helping someone who has been in the same house for fifty years move to another. It was quite an undertaking. Dougal and Philbert also went to the tree surgery fair in Tetbury. There were a lot of men, and the occasional lady, spending a lot of money on brightly coloured, tight fitting clothing. My men managed to restrain themselves, I can’t have them dressed like those bikini-clad gimps that ride their bicycles past our house boasting loudly and frightening my dogs. That wouldn’t do at all.
Lord Dave.
PS: I heard a cuckoo on Sunday, the first for years- that’s nice.
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DWOTS Blog 101
It has been a week of sheds, which is marvellous, I love sheds. Josh and the tree men have been cutting trees, carefully because of the nesting birds, but I have joined Philbert in constructing a shop bought shed (inferior) and then putting up my recycled leylandii version, which turned out fine. As well as this, we’ve been re-roofing sheds, with recycled left -over metal sheeting and selling wood chip, more re-cycling.... And, I still haven’t been on an aeroplane. That makes me green. Apart from the sausages. However, I have eaten quiche on Monday, so I’m pretty much a vegan at least one day this week, there wasn’t a lot of bacon in my slice and I had potato salad with it, rather than beef. I have attached photos of my shed and a mini- shed, which to be honest was only marginally too short for Philbert to stand up in, at 4ft high. I’ve also attached a photo of the three Collies, not because they are relevant, but that they are so beautiful. Meanwhile, Lily and Billy have bought a house, or at least had an offer accepted on one, in Marlborough. ‘You’ll have more food to eat once I’ve moved out.’ Said my daughter, ignoring the fact that she could simply have stopped stealing it, rather than moving away. (She breaks in, through the Scooby-Doo bookcase, eats stuff, then vanishes again). There was half a shell from an Easter egg missing again at the weekend, Cadbury’s as well, she just can’t help herself, or I suppose, she can-help herself, if you see what I mean. Anyway, I’ve still got three eggs left, which I’m saving until she has gone, I’m very partial to them and might even break my record this year, nine. I’m also worried that when she moves out, she’ll try and take seventeen chickens, three geese, a dim-witted Labrador and a hideously ugly 45- year old horse, with bulging eyes and no teeth. If you live in Marlborough and a sold sign has just popped up next door, make sure your fences are in good order and seal up any entrances between the party walls, otherwise you’ll be overrun with animals and have no food left.
I’ll still have Daisy, to eat my things, but she isn’t quite as bad and much cleverer at disguising such. ‘It was Winnie.’ She says, and I have no reason to disbelieve her. Dougal doesn’t steal at all. The conclusion to it all is that things are still going, as I said, swimmingly, so the Yin-Yang balance is getting lop-sided. I expect something rubbish will happen soon, probably to do with Stephen Fry, I bet his limousine breaks down outside our house, on his way to a pompous festival (probably in Calne), then he’ll come in and make clever but unkind comments about my moustache. Trouble is, I’m too slow witted to counter-attack. It’s something I think about a lot, living as I do on the A4.
Lord Dave.
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DWOTS Blog 100
I was sitting at a family barbeque at the weekend, rocking gently and dribbling a bit, because I was one of the oldest there, and I’d drunk a fair bit of Hobgoblin Gold. Lily and my sister were eating dips and chatting, so I listened in. ‘Is it nearly time for our regular keep-fit training run?’ Asked Lily, wiping a smear of chocolate further across her face.... ‘No, that’s July, half way through the year.’ Replied Katy, biting into a cucumber finger. Lily thought about this for a bit. ‘Isn’t June half way through the year?’ There was a long, long pause and I watched as they both started counting their fingers. ‘My goodness, you’re right!’ Said Katy, as, simultaneously, my daughter said, ‘You’re right Kate, it’s July.’ There followed a quick re-calculation, which resulted in the conclusion that the date could be arranged later, but the actual training schedule should be planned at once. ‘We’ll do six laps, like last time.’ Lily decided, talking about the circuits around the arboretum, which I once worked out to be about one third of a mile. ‘I thought we only did four in January?’ ‘Did we?’ ‘Yes, don’t you remember, four laps, then we had six mince pies.’ My daughter looked puzzled, saying something about the figures being the other way around. ‘You were so fast.’ She praised, dodging the issue of how many laps there had been in relation to refreshments. ‘So were you, except when we were walking.’ At this point I politely interrupted, asking whether walking really qualified for a running event, and if it did, surely there should be a slightly longer distance than two miles, or even less, depending on who was right about the number of laps. The ladies looked at me as if I was being daft, so I backed down. ‘Shall we have a barbeque afterwards?’ This was Lily’s idea, but my sister seemed delighted with the plan. ‘Yes, let’s do that! At this point, my first-born furrowed her brow, took a big sip of Prosecco, ate two cakes and said. ‘It might be a bit hot in June, and July, don’t you think we’d be better off just having the barbeque? We could maybe start running again in the new year, when it’s cooled down a bit.’ They both nodded, but nobody spoke, they were both enjoying the profiteroles too much.
On Sunday I made a shed out of the remaining leylandii from Waitrose car park, at this rate I will have reversed global warming on my own within a year. The structure is a bit wonky, but that is sort of the point-rustic and natural, using locally sourced wood. Whilst doing the woodwork I was listening to the radio and notice that, predictably, Stephen Fry has opinions about the Eurovision Song Contest. Well done Steve.
Lord Dave.
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DWOTS Blog 99
Dougal passed his small tree felling, which means that he is ready to do the next two parts of the course, climbing trees and cutting from within, which is excellent, because I am more certain than ever that I’ve climbed my last one. This also means that, with Philbert progressing as well, we will be back to having three fully qualified tree men, excluding me, which is good news, leaving me to get on with what I do best- talking. Because of the business flyers I... have met even more people than usual this week and consequently more opportunities to ‘help’ with impromptu life coachings. On Thursday I treated a fellow in his thirties to my first really successful therapy. The chap, a smart man in a tightish jumper, pretended he needed landscaping advice, but I could tell this was just a guise to open up with some life-style conundrums. ‘Should I turf or seed my new lawn?’ He asked, a cry for help if ever I heard one, thank goodness my training could see through to the real issue. ‘Do you have family?’ I asked, realising that he wanted to talk. ‘Eh?’ ‘A new-born?’ I asked, perceptively. ‘Err, yes…’ ‘Tired, regretting the paternity leave, wishing you were back at work rather than changing nappies?’ I said, or words to that effect. Jumper man agreed, the realisation that he was stressed and facing burn-out if he didn’t heed my advice, (which was basically that he should take it easy), but unaware that my coaching had been the catalyst for this awakening. Classic. I went on to explain that grass seed might be best, rather than turf, particularly if he were going to do it himself, interspersing the ground care facts with helpful lifestyle advice. All for free too. I think that we might get the work there too, so I’ll hopefully be able to do a follow up and up-date session. It’s all going swimmingly, which is in itself a worry, the yin and yang of life won’t be balanced in my favour for long, of that I’m certain.
Lord Dave.
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DWOTS Blog 98
Since coming back from Badminton Horse Trials, my wife has become posh. I offered her some Easter egg on Sunday, hoping that if I gave her some, she might not be tempted to pinch a half-shell when I wasn’t looking. ‘Oh no.’ She said, in horror, ‘I’m quite full of crepes.’ She then went on to ask how the red button worked on the TV, when I asked why, explaining that nobody in the family knew what it was for, how it worked or whatever it even meant, she replied th...at she needed to catch up on someone called Piggy French. I was shocked, surely in these days of political correctness she shouldn’t be using such an unkind nickname? Philbert went to the equine event too, apparently, he was seen dragging one of those tartan two wheelers around, the ones favoured by gentlemen in their eighties in suburban towns. According to unconfirmed eye witness accounts, he was also sporting a cardigan, some of those slacks that cost £9.99 in the Radio Times and matching zip up fur lined booties, like the ones I borrowed off someone’s Nan once, to help gain entry to a nightclub. He almost certainly had a side parting as well.
Back at home, Keegan, who’d also been to the show, told me he has pulled a muscle in his cheek, caused he says by smiling too much. ‘Why?’ I asked, wondering what makes him so cheerful. ‘I just feel happy all the time.’ Well, I can’t argue with that. Lily, who had been at the horse event too, asked what we, the stay behinds, had eaten for tea. ‘Chinese.’ I said. I knew this would cause trouble, my eldest daughter sulked for a bit, then said she was going to bed. I awoke at 5am, in a cold sweat, realising what might have been on her mind. Because I’d eaten too much of the Oriental meal, I’d left my pancake roll in the fridge, thinking it was safe because all the females were out. Early on Sunday the dawning realisation that Lily had almost certainly stolen it, under the smokescreen of an early night, caused me to wake up with a start. I raced downstairs, opened the fridge expecting the worst and was pleasantly surprised to find the panny intact. I quickly gorged it down, despite the early hour, knowing that she’d be foraging soon, (along with Winnie), so that when she finally got up, I was able to tease her that she’d missed a trick. ‘Oh, that’s fine.’ She said, ‘I stole Billy’s.’ Shocking. Poor Billy has to put up with so much, as do I, but it does explain why Keegan is always so happy, I don’t think his partner is quite as out of control as ours and I suspect that’s what makes him so gleeful. Or does that sound unlikely?
David.
PS; The photos are of Philbert doing proper skilled tree surgery, to compensate for teasing him about his trolley.
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DWOTS Blog 97
I knocked on a lady’s door, in a village to the west of here, in response to an enquiry to my promotional leaflets, and greeted her politely. ‘Hello, are you Mrs Smith (not her real name)?’ I held out my hand, to shake hers.... ‘You can tell you’re not within the M25.’ She said, ignoring the fact that, geographically at least, this was obvious. Puzzled, I asked her what she meant. ‘You called me Mrs, I’m actually a Ms.’ She said. Although it wasn’t a squabble, I could tell that I’d annoyed her and I couldn’t help but feel I might have committed a social faux-pas, though I’m still at odds to fully understand what it is I did wrong. Anyway, I was going to do some life coaching at her, as this side of my business has been on the back burner a while now, but I couldn’t really get a coaching off the ground, I was off to too poor a start. Meanwhile, Willow has nibbled the corner off my certificate that Keegan bought me when he purchased my title off the internet, but if I’d been more on the ball, and carried the (now framed), document with me, I could have admonished my potential client for not using my full title, ‘Lord Dave of Hougun Manor’, (I don’t know why it’s Hougun Manor). I missed a trick there, also forgetting to mention that I was a feminist as well, though I haven’t got a certificate for that yet, I’ll have to see what’s available on the internet to tide me over until the real thing arrives, if such a thing exists. Other than that hiccup, the promotional leaflets have been a resounding success, I hadn’t anticipated quite such a reaction, the main problem being the insistence of people on using the mobile telephone, rather than e-mail or land line. It’s simple, Vodafone are rubbish, messages don’t get through, sometimes for days, texts are also awful, though marginally less. Now, whilst BT are obviously equally dubious, business wise, at least their service is usable- just. So, if you want me, try landline or email, I should have left the mobile number off the flyers, though that would seem ridiculous. Except that it isn’t. The photo this week is of Phil, who looks tough doing his stuff in the absence of Dougal, who has been on a tree felling course which is vital to his career. His next NPTC test on felling small trees is this morning, good luck Doog… Also, Keegan has joined us for the week, because it’s been busy, he seems to have done well, despite a diet of Hula-Hoops, Easter eggs and Lucozade. Winnie, who finally broke down and admitted stealing my Honey Roast Peanuts, has bought me two kilos of such, so I’m set up for the bank holiday, I think there are still some Easter eggs in the house as well, even with Keegan and Daisy chomping through them, so all is well.
Lord Dave.
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