Well, never mind plan B, it turned into one of those long running, ever-changing plans that is still evolving as I write. But it's going to look ok when it's done. In the end I decided to drill out the old post end from the the concrete and get a similar size post and fit it in the hole. God did I sweat drilling that motherfucker out of that hole - completely fucked up a brand new £9 drill bit, pretty much shagged out my old drill, and used about half a gallon of petrol in the generator. But now I have a whole new post cut from an old telegraph pole, fitting perfectly but standing slightly off the upright. Good result really, so I'm feeling pretty chuffed!
Next job is to repair the rails to the side of the new post, then clear up all the mess, and in a few days the whole episode will begin to fade into history.
Spring days on the moor sometimes bring tears to my eyes. I was watching a swallow perched on the weathervane, singing his heart out. When I get these sort of moments with nature it always takes me back to my childhood - the best bits of it - you know, sitting by the river watching my float, sun on my back, just waiting for the fish to go by. On really hot days we used to swim in that river by an old railway viaduct and now and again steam trains used to go by. Dr Beeching closed the railway in 1966. I disliked him intensely at the time. I went back there a few years ago and there was a 'Danger, bridge unsafe' sign up and the river was completely covered in weed.
Did you see that survey that said we were happier in 1957 than we are now? I think that's bollocks but I loved growing up in the 50s and 60s. Remember the Ford Anglia with the sloping back window - says it all really doesn't it!
Put On Your Big Boy Shorts
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