“Two of our
forks are looking a bit weak at the knees and may not survive the day.”
So predicted
the ‘tool-fairy’ ahead of today’s session, before adding hastily, doubtless
recalling a catalogue of previous incidents: “But this is not an invitation to
a fork-breaking competition!” (Slightly unfair:
all our fork-breaking has been strictly non-competitive.)
“I empathise
with the two forks,” replied one volunteer.
“Who’s
bringing the four candles?” asked another.
It had been
fine and dry too,
till October wandered by.
Nevertheless, a goodly number of
Green-Gymmers, all ready with our waterproofs, had volunteered to work on a new
site.
‘New’ in the sense that the venue was
new to us; also that this particular parcel of ground is being re-worked from
low-grade pasture into a conservation-friendly habitat.
When the project has been completed, the
field will be the Cholsey Churchyard Wildflower Meadow until such time that it
is needed for burial of the dead of the parish of
St Mary’s Cholsey.
Meantime,
there is the small matter of preparing the land for re-sowing. What wildflower seed really likes is bare
earth:
For one person working alone this would be two winters’ worth of digging. For a Green-Gym team, a morning’s work:
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| Before |
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| After |
Waterproofs
were not, in the end, needed, as a window of beautiful weather opened up after
the wind and rain of the day before, and ahead of further bands of rain and
wind forecast for later on. The rain had
softened the soil nicely. The breeze was
just enough to keep us cool as we laboured. And the sunshine helped the spot to look its best:
Admittedly
there was little of wildlife interest, barring an addition to our catalogue of
interesting slugs. I am not sure I had
ever seen a spotted or tiger-stripe slug before:
Many hands
did indeed make for light work, and the usual lively conversation made the time
pass remarkably quickly. Discussion
covered “beer, politics, more beer, religion, more beer, volunteer options, and
anything seen on the news which took our fancy.”
The parish
churchyard itself is best known for the grave of
Agatha Christie, who is reputed to be the world’s best-selling
novelist.
The memorial stone which
caught my attention, however, was this one, on account of the span of dates instead
of the more usual 1914-18 (or, less often, 1914-19, where servicemen concerned had
been involved in the war against Turkey):
Given the location
of today’s session, there just had to be an element of mystery about our day.
Nothing to pique the curiosity of
M Poirot, or engage the interest of
Miss Marple, but a mystery all the
same: the mystery of the missing fork.
13 Green-Gymmers went to work with one fork each.
At the end of the session, 13 Green-Gymmers
returned to our RV point, each bearing a fork.
Collect up all the forks, and count them: 12.
Go back and check that no-one had absent-mindedly
returned to base not carrying a fork: nothing found.
What are we to deduce: that a garden fork has
somehow dissolved into thin air?
