The story of my year, in not many words

January: Walking boots, job interview, new phone.
February: Tracy and Kate’s Manchester returns, lots of country walks.
March: The debut of the allotment, Libby and Cardiff.
April: Volunteering, a job offer, a crush on a girl in Waterstone’s.
May: The end of crimefighting, a test match at Old Trafford, a new job.
June: Woody and Clare, the first harvests, meeting Liz.
July: Mostly spent falling in love with Liz.
August: The Green Man, Vicky’s barbecue, Dr Jim’s Bank Holiday visit.
September: Lenny’s birthday, Izzy’s birth and work getting shit.
October: Mark Morriss, breaking up with Liz, ferry across the Mersey
November: The Lever Estate, Fireworks, flat hunting
December: Moving house, an upswing.

Balsam bashing

What a gorgeous day today was! Elaine collected me from the middle of Timperley after an ill-advised attempt to walk from home to the Malt Shovels in Altrincham before 9.30am. Staying out late the previous evening with Kate, Duncan and Gethin meant that I woke later than I should have, and that I was not as energetic as I ought to have been.

Balsam bashing means pulling up Himalayan Balsam, an easy enough task given the shallow roots and celery-like form of the plant. The relative ease of the task, and the large size of the group, meant that we were able to clear a large area during the day, which was very satisfying.



Afterwards, we went back to Elaine's lovely house in Altrincham for a barbecue in the sunshine. We played Jenga (again!), and talked about fun.

Umbrella

I left my umbrella in Waterstone's yesterday by mistake. I went back today to get it, and was served by the beautiful girl from the 21st May. We didn't have the same sort of zipping conversation, although she did say a couple of things that made me smile. I'd forgotten the New York Trilogy anyway, which was a blow to the plan of wowing her with kindness. I think it's probably too late to do it after today - I wasn't even sure if she remembered me. I remembered her though. Pints with the SACV volunteers and a glorious meal of orange salmon with Louise had taken my mind off my romantic failiure by bedtime.

SACV Spring Residential.

I spent the weekend in the Peak District with my new friends from SACV, working as a volunteer alongside the National Park Ranger for the Pennine Way. The weather was glorious on both days. We stayed at Brunt’s Barn Volunteer Centre – a barn converted to include a kitchen, large common area, comfy bunks and ablutions.


Brunt's Barn

We arrived late on Friday evening for an evening of introductions, red wine, marmalade tart and Jenga. I met some of the group last time I volunteered. Others were new to me. Everybody was very friendly and very welcoming. The group is really good-humoured, and sometimes very funny too - according to Peter, for example, there are seven different types of block in an officially sanctioned Jenga set. Apparently, each type is shaved slightly differently to make gameplay less predictable. I didn’t believe him for one moment.


Tools and workers, day two

The task on Saturday involved protecting some rare sphagnum moss growing near the Pennine Way on Bleaklow Moor. Walkers avoiding mud had trampled into the bog and damaged the plants. We used subtle persuasive techniques to gently suggest that walkers take a slightly different route along this section of the path: we made the moss side of the path less attractive to walkers, blocking it with coarse grasses to give the impression that there was no way through, and made the non-moss side of the path seem more attractive by creating an obvious stream-crossing point, and then paving the path on either side of the crossing with stones from the stream bed. It worked well, based on the passing walkers at least.


Me with mattock

Sunday’s task also sought to protect the immediate surroundings of a footpath. This time, a lump in the path seemed to lead walkers up onto a soft patch of peat, rather than around on the reinforced path. We built a new path bed in the stream using boulders, and then flattened out the hump and used the displaced earth to grade a gentle decline onto the newly built path. The effect was much the same as on Saturday, subtly suggesting to approaching walkers that a particular route was the best option.


Day two, the flattened lump

In the afternoon, we walked up to Higher Shelf Stones, and looked at the wreckage of a B29 that had crashed there sixty years earlier.


The wreckage, as described here.


More wreckage, still described here.

I really enjoyed the whole weekend. I found it strange that we spent eight hours travelling to and from the work sites - an hour driving and an hour walking each way each day - over the course of the weekend, and only about five hours working. Maybe I'm too used to the hard taskmaster Durex in the allotment. Adjusting to the pace of voluntary work is part of the challenge, I suppose.


DTRPKD

Brunt's Barn, 11pm

Conservation, conversation.

With the new job, and associated drama I'd let the bigger picture career-wise slip out of view until today.

I had my first go at conservation volunteering today. In the morning we erected a fence around a bank in the lake at Chorlton Water Park. The fence was designed to keep waterfowl from eating the plants we put in. The roots of the plants will make the bank more resistant to erosion.



In the afternoon we thinned (non-native) Norway Maple saplings from a patch of woodland so that the indigenous flora could thrive, and planted bluebells. The group is made up of some nice people, and I had a brilliant time. Five hours on volunteering doesn't sound like much, but the satisfaction that I got out of it was reassuring - I'm making the right move, I can tell.



Pepe came round for some help with what we've dubbed testa merda - the shit test - a fiendishly difficult listening paper for his non-native English Speaker examination. It's bitchingly tough! Even Louise, who speaks several languages, thought it was hard. Once we'd nailed testa merda, we went on to some tasks for the speaking exam, in which Pepe gives a few short talks / speeches about various parts of his life. We talked about his home village, Montecalvo, and about his twenty-two years of naval service. He told me about his trip to South America, about his time in the Med after 9-11, about boats he'd sailed on and women that he'd known. It was fascinating. Five hours flew by.

Ten hours of work on a Sunday wore me out. In a good way.