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We spent most of the weekend digging shit.
OK, I know we often use that word to describe whatever unpleasantness
we happen to be dealing with - be it mud, silt, dredgings or the latest BW
regulations... But this time was different: when Mike Palmer promised us a
crappy job, he wasn't kidding.
Maybe it was his way of getting revenge for us 'dumping him in it' - so
to speak - as up to two days prior to the dig he was busy at Salford Quays
clearing-up after the festival, blissfully unaware that we were coming.
But coming we were, and by way of celebrating their first ('paper')
wedding anniversary, Maria and Clive were doing the organising.
Anyway, after the usual late start on Friday night from London, a
fair-sized contingent (and there were plenty of us, too) gathered for a
couple of pints at the 'Railway' while MKP outlined the plan for the
weekend. A large overspill weir had lain undetected, unknown and
unsuspected in the undergrowth by the Barge Canal for countless aeons.
(Well, actually I remember seeing it in about 1984 but I'd somehow
forgotten it.) A brick culvert used to lead from the weir to the river.
Part of this culvert was still intact, part had been replaced in concrete
when a sewer was built under it, and one section was what is generally
referred to as knackered (for the non-technically minded, that's a
technical term meaning 'buggered'.) The top had collapsed, it had become
blocked and useless, the water flowing into it had backed up and flooded
the field, and the whole mess had been turned into a total quagmire by the
field's occupants - a herd of cattle who appeared to be part of the
testing programme for the Bovine Laxative Research Project. And our job
was to dig it out and rebuild it. Plenty of opportunity for hard work,
lavatorial humour ("Is it a 'big job', Mike?" "I see this
is the 'number two' job on the work sheet"...) and generally getting
covered in shit.
When I say 'our job', I really mean 'their job', as on Saturday morning
I did a runner and headed 100 miles north to an IWA Restoration Committee
meeting on the Sankey Canal, so while the rest of the team were busy
getting stuck into shoveling crap, we were busy spouting it.... No, that's
not fair, it wasn't that bad, and we got a nice tour of a very interesting
restoration scheme that could do with a lot of money, now. (don't they
all?)
Anyway, when I got back in the evening, I headed for the 'Railway'
expecting everyone to be there already, and they weren't! So, back to the
accommodation and they weren't there either! A quick call on a mobile
phone revealed that they'd gone for a boat ride on the canal... bloody
typical - I miss out on a year's boating 'cos Fulbourne's minus its
engine, then the first day's London WRG digging that I've missed all year,
and they've all gone boating without me! Oh well.
Anyway, it was just as well I arrived back at that moment, so I could
take the minibus down to Ladywood and retrieve the boaters, then we could
head for the 'Railway', which thanks to the current landlord is gradually
acquiring a OO gauge model railway running round the entire pub interior
at picture-rail height, and tunneling through the walls....
"I'm afraid it's taking me rather a long time." "Don't
worry, I bet you finish your railway before we finish our canal."
The following morning we marked our organisers' paper wedding
anniversary with an appropriate token of our affection - a paper plate,
signed by everyone. (I've just looked it up and I see that the first
anniversary is 'cotton' and the second is 'paper'...whoops! Oh well, we
know what to get them next year, don't we? Three years is 'leather'...
wahey!!)
Back on site, it was obvious that the cows had inspected our work
overnight, and given their opinion on it. (they thought it was 'crap')
Having completed the excavation work, we dammed up the bywash to stop
water coming through while we rebuilt the brick sides of the culvert to
something approximating to a level surface. Then we built a 'lid' for it
with concrete paving slabs.
Then it was time to cover it over with backfill up to ground level.
Someone suggested we ought to find some way of enticing the cattle to line
up with their rear-ends over it and fill it up for us. (our culvert would
be 'interred', so to speak) The cows weren't interested. So we had to do
it ourselves. (No I don't mean we parked our arses over the hole....) We
quickly shoveled the mud and everything else back into the hole... it went
like shit off a wet shovel... that's because it was....
Anyway, by the time we knocked-off the field had been leveled, the
culvert was flowing OK, and MKP was pleased with our work (we probably
deserved a 'pat' on the back). All in all, not bad for a weekend spent
digging shit.
PS thanks Mike for organising the boat-ride
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