Area A done at last

Benjamin had stormed at us throughout Wednesday night and a lot of Thursday, and it continued to rain on and off ever since. The giant sponge that is the Common absorbed all that was thrown at it, but it also soaked the previously cut vegetation that had been lying there for a month or so, awaiting our attention. And then the wind direction changed – enough to send Mary Poppins packing. It swizzled round to the north and cor blast! it felt cold. The comparison with the wave of heatwaves we had experienced in the summer (apparently the hottest since dinosaurs bestrode the Earth and Granny was a girl) was shocking, so out came hats, scarves and gloves: and even more when I stepped outside. So it was that the magnificent 16 volunteers who came to today’s work party will have approached the task with some trepidation, knowing that the light work of the previous sessions was no more. Most of all, they would have been fervently hoping that the wonderful winch had been returned to its box, as dragging that sodden stuff by hand again was not going to be much fun.

Happily, it was: here’s the evidence, with winchman Noel for scale:

Despite all that blather above about the change in the weather, our usual luck held and it was actually very sunny; sunny enough to warm us up nicely thanks. Your correspondent was recruited back into the role of winchman’s wingman, there being no better alternative on the day. Humorous colleagues asked Noel how his apprentice was getting on, and before you knew it I had become a Petty (very petty) Officer, before returning all the way down the snake to a YTS intern. Always hiding my light under a bushel, I can just be glimpsed up to no good behind the heap here.

Those readers still with retentive memories will remember that this part of the Common (Area A for those in the know) is home to a nest of wasps. It remains a no-go area, suitably signed, so we once again had to create our dump site accordingly.

Although the last two working parties had been slaving away on this patch, there was still a lot to move.

And all the while the heap kept growing, such that winchman and wingman were unaccountably barricaded in.

And here’s the view out from behind the barricade.

Only a few hours before, the clocks had changed and we were now operating on good old GMT. In announcing the session a momentary aberration made Julie think the clocks fall forward in the autumn, and rest assured, she was teased about this – in a kindly way you understand. In penance, here she is on her own, but raking it in as usual.

It’s possible that this uncertainty may have infected the catering team, for strident calls from their labouring colleagues about it being almost half time seemed to fall on deaf ears. However, persistence prevailed and they relented. Here we see them saying a little prayer, seeking our forgiveness.

The happy throng convened for a sunny break…

… although it pains me to report that the cup of tea intended for me was passed to another, and I was forced to wait thirstily for a replacement to be produced. Only Nina’s reliably excellent apple cake could soothe me.

Placed well back from the actual tipping point as Noel and I were, there was little chance for musical interaction. He did however put me on to a band he had stumbled across on the internet, called ‘Chicks on Speed’ with their number “We don’t play guitars”. Back home, a quick search also revealed a link to their “Wordy Rappinghood” on YouTube which I at least greatly enjoyed. A band name like that intrigued us: for the female members of our own group we considered ‘Ladies in Lavender’, but that’s been done, although we eventually felt pleased enough with ‘Girls on Caffeine.’

Tea break over, we returned to the fray with added vigour. Just as well, as it is often necessary to steer the drag sheet on its course to the tipping point, and this can be quite a strenuous business, as illustrated here.

We managed to complete the task on time: here’s how Area A looks now.

All that was left to be done was to form a convoy and get the tools back to base, happy in the knowledge of a job well done – until the repeat performance the other side of the boardwalk next time.

Here is Team Leader Margaret’s message of thanks:

Hello All.

A massive thank you today for your hard work. The terrain was uneven and the cuttings hard to collect but still you all managed to smile. It's an enormous heap that the winch crew have managed to construct, only made possible by the pitchforkers (If that isn't a word it should be). What is even more amazing is that you were able to arrive on time, despite Julie's helpful advice in her usually efficient call to arms. It's good to know that you are fallible Julie. I am sure that we worked so much better after coffee as a result of Nina's excellent apple cake.

Hopefully we will see you in two weeks’ time when we are expecting to move to area B to clear the reeds that were cut 6 weeks ago, so I am sorry but more frustrating clearance required.

I do hope you all appreciate how much we value your efforts. You are absolutely wonderful.

Margaret for the team leaders.

Between Area A and Lower Street is the spot so eccentrically known as The Hill. A tree there had died and was in danger of falling on the overhead power lines, so it had to go. Now its memorial is a large outcrop of fungus – the much-maligned honey fungus is my guess. The question is, was it the fungus that killed the tree, or is it merely the beneficiary of something that was already dying?