93% - that
was the forecast from the Met. Office for humidity this morning, and I doubt any
of the 13 hardy volunteers who attended today’s working party would have cause
to doubt it. The morning (happily, the part of it before your usual
correspondent ventured out) started with drizzle, but then it held off until we
finished. So at least we could strip off so far as decency and legislation
would allow, but there was precious little evaporation going on. We’ve mentioned
before the old saying “horses sweat, gentlemen perspire, but ladies merely glow”:
this time, there was no distinction – sweat applied equally.
Six person hours
had been expended earlier in the week to perform the essential pre-cut of the part
of Area G (the central bit of the Common) that is south of the boardwalk,
leaving it looking like this.
On arrival
(on time as usual, no sooner) I found only Janet, bravely forking material onto
a drag sheet.
The lack of
companions for her can be explained by the absence of several Team Leaders, who
had come up with reasons to be absent. But have no fear, we were in the capable
hands of TL Julie, who managed extremely well thank you, and before you knew it
more volunteers started flocking in.
There’s an
art to tipping out a drag sheet, and here’s how it’s best done.
And then
there’s this:
A mishap has
occurred, with Dave disappearing and at risk of being buried. Listen carefully,
and your correspondent can be heard asking plaintively to be allowed to join
in. Despite this, we found we were actually working at peak efficiency (for
us, that is) with well-loaded sheets ready to be towed as soon as the previous
one was tipped out. Already the task looked well on its way to completion.
Half-time
came, providing a welcome opportunity to cool down for a bit, and an even more
welcome piece of Nina’s famous and indeed essential apple cake.
Back at work
and suitably refreshed, as always there was random conversation to eavesdrop
on: reminiscences about free school milk, which was either un-drinkable because
it had been left out in the cold and was frozen, or because it had been left out in the
heat, and was curdled. That’s the sort of thing the pitchforkers discuss. Back
at the winch end of the rope, there’s always much debate about where to tip out
the next sheet. With growing piles (I know, we’ve done that joke before)
the optimum spot for the next load is a matter of concern, so when someone
suggested “that pocket there”, inevitably we went into a lot of useless
fantasising about snooker tables, and which pocket on a table was meant by this.
Regular readers won’t be surprised to learn that this persisted for several
sheets, and incorporated the desirability of “going in off” in billiards and then
a detour into bar billiards, with those tables having holes in the middle and
mushrooms to add further confusion.
Meanwhile Dave,
for reasons that now escape me, gave renditions of “When the Red Red Robin
Comes Bob Bob Bobbin' Along” and “There’ll always be an England.” Perhaps it
was his close shave with being buried that brought it on.
Bette Midler’s
“From a Distance” featured briefly, connected to the fact that the sheets by
now were having to be winched a fair old way, and the mound grew higher.
Meanwhile,
the usually melodic Noel was strangely quiet: this was put down to the fact
that he had been thinking a lot...
What he was plotting
was the best route for the last set of sheets, and he came up with a
course between two trees that he likened to threading them through the eye of a
needle. This quickly became likened to embroidery – naturally. Here we see a
sheet approaching the challenge:
And here we
go, rather to a different Dave’s surprise…
Sometimes
the Common’s inhabitants make themselves known while we’re messing up their
home. This time it was a very active and healthy-looking common lizard.
There was
some material on the other side of the boardwalk that also had to be cleared, and
this too was done in time. Then it was time for the sheet folding specialists
to consider things…
… and
finally wrapping the whole thing up.
Here is TL
Julie’s fuller message of thanks:
Hi all
This is a
huge and heartfelt thanks to the 12 volunteers who joined me today on the
Central Area. I knew we were down at least 6 regulars (including team leaders)
and so was a little concerned about getting the task done, especially as it was
raining first thing....but I should have known better and needn't have worried
- our superb group of volunteers never disappoint - we got more reed moved
today than I thought we would......you are all amazing. Thankfully the rain
stopped for the duration of the work party - though it was very humid.
My chat
about digging up the small Alders on the central area was also supported, so I
will be putting out an email about doing that task for an hour next Friday
afternoon early next week. Again you never cease to amaze me with your
enthusiasm.
Thanks
again
Regards,
Julie
Here’s how
that part of Area G now looks:
Earlier in
the week three of us attended a two-handed talk by NWT’s David North and Nick
Acheson. (David worked for the Trust for many years and now volunteers, and
Nick is the Trust’s Wildlife Ambassador.) Publicity for this event seems to have been elusive,
so it is thanks to our Sheila that she tipped us off that it was happening in
the theatre attached to the excellent Black Swan pub and theatre in North
Walsham. The talk was part of NWT’s celebration of 100 years of conservation in
Norfolk, and was built around the four books that the two speakers have written
between them: David’s Life Changing: Cley and Salthouse Marshes which we
mentioned back
in February and his just published biography of the legendary Bernard Bishop,
sometime warden of Cley Marshes and still a volunteer there. This is described
in the Trust’s blog (yes, there are other blogs!). Nick’s books are The
Meaning of Geese which we mentioned back in May
2023, and more recently This Wild Dream: A Celebration of 100 Years of
Norfolk Wildlife Trust. Amongst many other things, Nick was able to reveal
that his beloved Pink-footed geese have begun to appear back at Cley for the
winter.
Here in Southrepps
I see that despite the exceptionally hot and dry summer, the hedgerows are full
of berries: many hawthorns and blackberries in particular (although a lot of
the latter are in a bad state). This being the season for fungi, there are a
few striking examples along the lanes, including these two. The usually
reliable Obsidentify app has failed to tell me what they are, but perhaps someone
out there will know.
And finally,
staff from NWT have been at work at Pit Common, cutting down all the reeds and
reedmace that were clogging the pond. Presumably the clearing away of them is due
to be completed.
