What with yesterday’s evening snow and the constantly nagging easterly wind, the weather hasn’t been great of late, but there are some intimations that life is not actually extinct. One such indication is the emergence of Winter aconites on the verges near the Common. Way back in 1785 the great pioneering naturalist Revd. Gilbert White noted their emergence in his journal entry on 16th February. The following year, on Valentine’s Day, he noted “Bullfinches eat the buds of honeysuckles”. It was decidedly chilly in 1792: on the 19th “Frost comes within doors” but on the 16th in 1774 in Selborne skylarks were beginning to sing; in Southrepps right now they already are too – I heard my first this year on 23rd January.
In Scoop, Evelyn Waugh’s rather wet Lush Places correspondent for The Beast newspaper is famous for writing “Feather-footed through the splashy fen passes the questing vole…” Anyone wondering what a splashy fen is like need look no further than Area D on Southrepps Common. Its’s splashy alright, and rich in cloying, indeed sucking mud. Here’s a taste:
This is the spot visited again by 15 questing volunteers who made their unsteady rather than feather-footed way to the scene of the action. With the responsible adults anxious to avoid near-drownings, the worst of the deep holes in that splashy fen were marked by little sticks and gaudy tape: they did the trick – nobody fell in.
On arrival, fashionably early again, my first view was of Team Leader Margaret booting one of two found footballs my way.
We quickly determined that the pitch was unplayable, and the balls were left beside the boardwalk. They were reduced in number to the tune of one during the first half of our labours. Speculation about who might have half-inched one was rife, with my suggestion being a Norwich City footballer, in clear need of the practice. The actual culprit was probably a passing dog, seen with a football in its mouth – and that counts a as evidence m’lud. A third ball was found later on; this one so encased in moss as to appear at first glance to be an exciting new spheroid species.
We were only just setting up and layers were coming off! Milder than we thought!
The early arrivals at work….
This is the amount of scrub to be cleared over the next few weeks!
Somewhere in here is the tree we want to attach the winch to next time!
The winch crew were on top form, utilising a ‘turning block’ to create the necessary space for the sheets to be turned over using the winch, rather than the exhausting way of doing it manually.
Meanwhile the pitchforkers were kept busy dealing with the reeds as fast as Grillo could mow them.
Incidentally, on a topical geopolitical note, it did occur to your usual correspondent that should the worst predictions come true and this nation should have to stand alone to repel the advances of the Russian Bear, we at least in Southrepps are ready, armed as we are with sharp pointy pitchforks.
While the usual reed shifting was taking place, invasive scrub repelling was also happening, in very muddy conditions (as shown in the video above). Team Leader Julie says she got a tiny feel of the mud in the trenches - especially after the footie game earlier! It was difficult to walk in and not ideal when she knocked her glasses off into it. (Without having them on at that point, she found it difficult to retrieve them!)
It was at this spot that Team Leader Margaret got stuck: sadly un-photographed, she ended up with her legs trapped in the mud spectacularly wide apart. As the perhaps less than sympathetic Brian declared, “That’s why we call her Marge – she spreads so well!”
Shortly before the half-time break the way through to the rest of the Common was opened up by doughty John, today’s Grillo driver. It felt much like the elation the Channel Tunnel tunnellers must have had when they broke through.
Form an elderly queue for tea they said, but no one listened.
During the break we were treated to Custard Creams whilst being regaled with hilarious tales from Noel’s eventful life. More are promised next time. The man himself was, as usual, singing at the dumping site, but surprisingly, only sotto voce. When we were joined by Sheila (with choir experience) and Team Leader Margaret (less so), the quality improved (according to the said Team Leader anyway). Next time, the attempt will be made to record a performance for the delectation of the entire internet.
As the mud was almost at the top of the scrub bashers' wellies by the dead hedge they got everyone to bring a fork of dry reed over to put on top so they could stand without sinking or falling over! Teamwork! They also laid a mat by the winch area for next time.
And here is the dead hedge; rather more dishevelled than usual, but given the conditions, it’s still great.
At the dumping site this rather snazzy bracket fungus was spotted.
At the end of the session, the party being over, we had to trudge our soggy way back…
… leaving a job well done again …. Look at that blue sky!!
Here’s how we left the site, with hopefully just one more session required to complete the job.
Here is the Team Leaders’ message of thanks:
Here we all are again. Or at least 15 hearty souls who
ventured into the increasingly boggy reed bed. It gets more difficult each
session to find words that adequately thank you for all your hard work. The
liquid mud today seemed to up the ante this morning, but as always a tremendous
amount was achieved and we are hopeful that the 2nd of March will see us finish
the cutting and clearing of the reed bed. A task that looked impossible at the
beginning of December, so very well done.
Hope to see you all in two weeks, even perhaps Kevin if
the finger is pronounced healed. For those of you under par this morning,
thanks for making that extra effort and look after yourselves.
Thank you again,
we really don't take your help for granted, and are delighted to see you.
Margaret on behalf of the team leaders.
