War Games

Peace descends once more.

The birds can be heard, singing, in the trees.

A woodpecker taps away to his own rhythm.

It is over.

The last three days have been saccompanied by the clatter of land-rover diesel engines and the yell of a siting crew. World War 1 was probably quieter.

The reason for the battle? Four old caravans have departed for the “caravan park in the sky” (actually a farmer’s field, from where they might get a further life as builder’s site huts) and three new caravans have been delivered and sited.

Modern caravans weigh up to 8 tons, and trying to move them across grass, uphill, is a challenge. It is why we do all caravan movements in January and February, when we are closed. Unfortunately, the winter is when the ground is wettest.

We now have some areas where it appears that a history society has been re-enacting the battle of the Somme. Mud is spread, liberally. Very liberally. Especially on my shoes, inside my office and all over my car.

Our ground staff are busily at work, drinking tea and levelling paving stones that have been moved, and tomorrow they will start filling the wheel ruts, rolling the ground smooth and sprinkling the grass seed, whilst drinking more tea. At least the only noise they make is an occasional slurp.

Within a couple of weeks the mud will be a memory….. until next winter.

I must go……… I need to nip to the supermarket for some more tea bags.

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