The roof space used to be open along its length, but a couple of years after moving in we had a blockwork partition built separating the 2 spaces (an insurance requirement). There’s probably some of debris fallen, but unlikely there’s anything the roofers could do about it - not their problem. And the nest might have fallen anyway.
I’m happy to have Christmas decorations - at the right time - and look forward to getting them up again.
Wasps in the loft part deux.
Well, strictly speaking this is part 3, but I wrote words and added a picture through the phone, which would then not load to the site. However proving that nothing is ever lost over the internet (except what you want) on re-opening the thread a couple of weeks later, most of my earlier post including photo is here as a draft, waiting for me.
Part 2, I
After a couple of weeks from my previous post things have been quiet ‘upstairs’ without stingy visitors coming down, and it therefore seemed sensible to investigate further. Unfortunately at the same time, this Saturday morning is warm and sunny, meaning the beasties aren’t so sleepy.
A plastic sheet was arranged on the floor to catch falling materials, my wife stood by with the vacuum in case there were a lot of active animals and I had a container of wasp powder ready along with plastic bags for debris. Lifting the hatch saw some debris fall, but less than before. There were still some active and flying animals, but only a few, the nest appearing mostly dead now. Looking back and up, I could see where the nest had fallen from, having been in the apex of the roof by the chimney, and it had fallen a long way, bouncing and scattering pieces as it went.
One thing I had not expected was the stink - like animal houses long long overdue a clean out. And every bit that was moved released more stink. It may be the smell of dead and rotting grubs, but whatever, it was quite unpleasant.
In the end I removed some pieces from on top of the hatch, then puffed powder over the rest because the few flyers were getting agitated. In another week I’ll clear the rest.
The hatch top.
And so part II of part 2 update. Two weeks after the above comments I ventured this afternoon again into the loft. This time everything was quite dead, and I worked steadily to clear away much of the debris. There was a lot of material, and I could see where the nest had bounced and shattered on its way down from the apex of the roof.
The nest itself must have been at least 18" inches in diameter, and the debris half-filled a large black plastic refuse bag. The whole lot stank just as before (as does our upstairs now :p) and the smell even seemed to permeate through the marigolds I wore, making my hands smell of dead wasps after several rounds of washing.
Anyway, that’s over now. Soon time to make stroganoff for dinner. 
Why, do you think that will be strogonoff to take the smell away. 
We had a large nest behind the placo in our upstairs toilet. Only realised because we hear munching every tine we went it. So man came with loongg wand and sprayed stuff into their entrance/exit hole in the outside wall. Which killed them. But it took a very long tine for the smell of dead wasps to wear off. So yes, a horrible smell. But serves us right for killing them I guess.
There’s a good chance that they would stink anyway, if the nest was not abandoned, and possibly even if it was.
I haven’t detected wasp nests in our roof space, but then it is very shallow pitched and so we never venture there, but I have had them in smaller spaces like the door jams on the cars. I usually leave them alone and they don’t bother me.
Shocked almost out of my wits a few moments ago by a very large bang on the door window, 1 foot from my ear. Bird strike. I rushed outside as I always do because Jules, if he gets there first, is not kind to injured animals.
2 metres away on the step, the lifeless form of a male Blackbird. I knew from the violence of the collision that there was no hope but picked it up gently just in case. After a little water and a rest out of reach they have recovered before and flown away. Not this one, still warm but no beating heart, one eye closed, neck broken.
Well out of reach now I will drop it over the fence soon into dense growth where Nature’s undertakers will do the rest tonight.
3rd in a row here, fingers crossed. 
As I am well known never to chuck anything away, almost, I had a brilliant idea to find life number 4 for the old non-working chest freezer I relieved a local plumber of around 25 years ago. Obviously no charge.
Life no. 1 was as a storage for a glut of apples and potatoes sold to me in my ignorance by a door to door van man.
Life no. 2 was placed upright without lid in the shade of the forest, filled with water during the canicule of 2003, so that I could sit in it, relax/read in comfort with a G & T on a shelf fixed to a tree. 
Life no. 3 was as a general storage unit just outside the back door. Amongst other things it contained a bowl where I put all the remnant pieces of soap for later recovery as big bars again.
Before I could work out how to do the job when it was full, my lovely old boy Boss, the Rottweiler, ate them all over a period of time. 
But he was a very clean dog, inside and out.
So to Life no. 4
I recently started reversing our cars into the garden as front wheel drives, weight of engine over drive, on steep unstable ground, much easier to get in without wheel spin resulting in tyre wear and even more ground made unstable. 
Only problem, my current Beauceron, Jules, liked to sit in the back of the car which has a rear facing cage from where he can survey any movement outside the gate. 
So, brilliant idea, how about moving the freezer to a commanding spot with a comfy blanket inside, his very own sentry box? I got it cleaned out and trundled it to a position to load onto the barrow, realised that this was going to be difficult because it is heavy, the motor might need removing and everything round that was rusted up. So had a little think.
Sitting in the cage at the back of the Partner was fine, protected from the weather by the raised tailgate. But sitting in a SW facing kennel with no ‘porch’ for protection from the wind and rain which always comes from that direction, he would be soaked and so would the blanket.
So it sits now, trundled back into position , still waiting for Life no.4. And Jules has to face me instead.
And that is why it is here, and not in the Cheerful News thread.
No, I won’t waste a single one…oh bugger. 
Moved from cheerful news thread….as in our area of France pheasants are not breeding in nature. The hunters buy them in cages from pretty intensive breeders, release them, and promptly shoot them.
We often come across them when walking and they run toward us expecting to be fed.
I there might be some areas of France that are like Gluouscetershire, where they breed everywhere. But I’ve not seen them.
Sorry to burst your bubble.
Thanks - it’s another reason to be wary!
So awful to shoot them 
I agree, when I think of all the times that I have, within the bounds of safety, slowed or avoided them on the road.
They are such daft birds. They linger at the side of the road and, on detecting a car, run, but in the wrong direction.
They aren’t alone though, one night in the forest with the wagon, a badger suddenly rushed into my path from the side. He had time to clear me though, but instead turned away and tried to outrun me. The bump as he failed was sickening.
A Jay once did the same thing when I was in the Berlingo, flew across from the right, then turned right instead of continuing to safety. I didn’t realise that we had hit it till we stopped at a service area and there it was, wedged arse first into the grill with his head reaching forward just like the bowsprit on a sailing ship.
I never take pleasure in the death of animals, even if I have no part in their demise, but this dead bird did give his life to the benefit of art.
I had a kookaburra hit my windshield once. Scared the crap out of me, I was a young driver on a bad dirt road. He slid up the windscreen and wedged in the sunvisor our old Ford Fairlane had. I stopped, he slid down with a thump (they are a big, solid bird). Amazingly he wonkily stood up tottered a minute or 2 and flew off. Phew! Going slower on a dirt road probably saved him!
Coming from Gloucestershire, I can tell you that the Clunysois and Charolais are not, unfortunately, overrun with pheasants.
Haha, agreed. I grew up on the Wilts / Gloucestershire border (not far from Cirencester and Tetbury, if you know that part) and they were everywhere… Beautiful birds but bloody stupid beyond belief.
We used to live near Minchinhampton and got our birds either straight from a shoot near Horsley or from the butcher in Old Common in Nailsworth.
And I lived between Cirencester and Bibury, and worked in Stonehouse. I love Gloucestershire 
Nightmare memories of Stonehouse station….seemed to end up stuck there at night in the rain waiting for connecting trains that never arrived.
