By the barrow load

On the weekend, I ordered some topsoil. Rather than getting a few small bags, Mirinda figured it made more sense (financially and for long term use) to buy a humungous bag full. So I did.

The problem with the delivery people is that they don’t tell you when they’ll arrive. Not just with the time but also the day so there’s no real way of planning ahead.

So, today I’m sitting in the office when I hear the loud woosh of a big trucks air brakes. For some reason, I figured this was the top soil. I was right.

Parked out the front of the Crazies’ house was a massive great pantechnic. The driver was heading for our house with no paperwork in his hand. I met him at the door and he asked me something in a language that sounded like some sort of Schumanian.

I asked him if he was delivering a big bag of dirt. He looked confused then ran to his truck for the paperwork. Halfway back he said something jovial then returned to the truck for the proper paperwork.

Anyway, it was our bag of dirt. He opened up the back of the truck and there, sitting all alone in the truck, was a big blue bag.

The driver, who was small enough to be a jockey and made me wonder how he could see over the dashboard of his truck, unhooked his palette jack and started to move the big bag around the truck and onto the hydraulic ramp at the back. It was at this stage that any confidence in him went the way of a rabid pixie.

I should mention here that he didn’t really understand more than about five words of English. When he asked me to move the car, I told him I didn’t drive. He didn’t understand that. I then showed him the car key and said he could move it if he liked. He looked terribly confused as if wondering why I had a key but wouldn’t drive the car. I explained that it was my wife’s car. He clearly had no idea what I was talking about and decided not to continue that line of reasoning.

In the back of the truck, the bag weighed around a ton and was travelling downhill. Gravity, doing what gravity does really well, wanted the bag on the road and dragged the palette jack as rapid as possible, stopping only after the wheels went off the ramp. The little driver looked a bit concerned while I drew a long breath.

Eventually he managed to get the palette onto the road and started moving it towards the driveway. It was at about this time that Lloyd came out of the house to see what all the fuss was about. He couldn’t have timed it worse (for him) as we roped him in to help us push and drag the load up on the drive.

This proved impossible – our gutter is quite steep – so I took the executive decision and told the driver to drop it where it was. He was more than happy to do so (as was Lloyd).

It was then time to start moving the dirt from the bag to the back garden. Barrow load by barrow load, shovel full by shovel full. Four hours later (excluding a short lunch break) I had removed enough dirt from the bag to manage to drag it round the back under my own steam.

By the time I finished, I was absolutely knackered. Lloyd thought it was very funny, as did Dennis when he turned up from another job. Damn them! Just because I’ve been saying how hard they worked without a break the other day.

I finished with a very cold beer in the garden.

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A little while later, I was sitting in the office and glanced over the laptop screen. This is what I saw.

My view

Has there ever been a prettier view?

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I should finish with the news that the floors upstairs are now finished! They all look fantastic. Stage two, the stairs, will have to wait until June, when Dennis isn’t so busy.