Groundworks are underway in the Celestial Swamp that reflect both the passage of time spent here, and preparations for the years to come. And I am not referring to the building of a jetty nor a mooring point for a dinghy - with a recent spell of dry-ish weather and no longer fearing hitting water if we dig, the builders and their team are here to construct some heady additions to the moorland dwelling.
Former earthworks have been levelled, much to the joy of the chickens who clearly think that the stretch of flattened earth is designed solely for them as a worm farm; and what was once a grassy area overhung with pretty willow branches has become another parking space to cater for the increasing number of teens keen to show off their new found mobility by rocking up in their cars and undertaking multiple-point turns in the driveway. Now we have enough space for the latest seventeen year old to practice his reversing skills without my flinching too much at the proximity of the house, tree or me!
Our 'one big push and it'll fall down' stable has been demolished, another will replace it - a small step on the slippery slope towards a four-legged lawn-mower!
But the piece de resistance, (can't work out how to do accents on the blog), of these works is the oil tank. Out with the old metal tank rusting away quietly and in with an edifice that has a support block looking remarkably like a sacrificial altar to the god of concrete. Atop this sits an enormous green oil tank, a design of moulded green plastic worthy of a slot on Trafalgar Square's Fourth Plinth. Large enough to house a family of six; it is ugly enough to provoke discussion and practical enough to last the anticipated tenure in the centre of London. I'm going to suggest it to Boris!
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