Wrestling Anacondas
by: Buffs
Regular readers of this Blog
will understand that Western Depot is short of space. We regularly search
through the charity bag to see if there is a CS Lewis tome entitled ‘The Lion
the Witch and the Western Depot’. In it we hope to find depot manager Reg
Digory’s magic tool store through which our intrepid space maker, Richard,
could pass and return bringing tales of a land populated with empty containers and
acres of hard standing flanked by racking which reaches to the clouds. Close by
lies a dry dock and workshops which echo to the ring of hammers, the scream of
angle grinders (it must be lunchtime all the time) and the electric spit of the
arc welder.
It was in search of more space
for an expected flood of new logs from recently downed trees that David and
Chris ventured to a dark and congested corner of the log yard. This little
visited patch was guarded by the once yellow might of a machine now sadly
humbled in a state of disrepair. This sullen beast was dragged from its muddy patch
and led fitfully to the workshop where it might receive some TLC. Behind it lay
a jumble of barriers, timber in various states of usefulness and a secret store
of 45 gallon drums. Nestling amongst this jumble was an anaconda of drain hose.
David and Chris set about coaxing the entwined barriers and timber to separate
so that the large and long hoses –it became evident there were two – could be
released. All the while the dark corner fought back. The old pallets which had
supported the stash were rotten and gave way as if to try to swallow the
explorers as the corner fought to retain its bounty.
With the way clear it was time
to wrestle the anaconda.
The second pipe was short and of
small diameter. It gave in without a struggle. The larger pipe was at least a
foot in diameter, maybe two (well this is a fishy tale) and long, about 50
feet. And it was reluctant to move due to its size and weight. The intrepid
spacemakers wrestled the mighty anaconda clear of its lair keeping clear of the
lashing of the head and the tail. By taking a firm hold of each end they
dragged the mighty beast from the wood yard to the main compound leaving a deep
trail in the dust and hauled it unceremoniously to the roof of the containers
foot by massive foot. The now beaten and docile green beast lies in the sun
waiting for the next call for more space when it will fight to remain in
slumber once more.
At last some more space!
What would a canal yard be without a rescued
supermarket trolley?
