As those who read my recent Guardian column on the subject will know, I like scarecrows, and have been wanting to make my own and finding excuses to put it off for some time now. Yesterday, however, I finally got down to business, with the help of my friend Jo, a vacuum-packed bag of straw, Shipley (who, as you can see, put his own special final touch to the project), an oddly shaped piece of tree my dad found in the woods behind his house, some of my old ripped flares, a parka, and a false beard. I think he has a kind of “Madchester-meets-flasher” look going on. I’m looking at him very much as a first draft scarecrow, and I might go back and modify him, but for now I think he makes an adequate replacement for my wicker man, who sadly rotted and was reduced to a forlorn pile of sticks over the cruel winter months.
