that leads . . . to your door
Our track is in a constant state of disrepair. That is to say, we repair it each year, and without fail next year renewed attention is required to the new ruts and potholes that have appeared. Nor are we alone: all across these valleys, doughty neighbours must repair their tracks constantly, or else incur the wrath of delivery drivers and visiting friends, while fearing the inevitable collapse of their own long-suffering vehicle’s suspension.
Yesterday we took delivery of 4 dumpy bags of cement mix (sand and gravel), 18 bags of cement (we already had 6 in hand from a previous job), and 8 pin kerbs for the sides of the ford. The cement mixer will arrive mid-week, the mini-digger on Wednesday evening, and the last couple of days will be spent shovelling and barrowing the newly mixed concrete to fill the trenches gouged out of the wheel tracks where the erosive capacity of water run-off has destroyed the smooth passage we once enjoyed.
One cheeky delivery driver yesterday morning urged us to be sure to put small ridges across the smooth concrete so the van tyres could grip something in icy conditions, which seemed fair enough! When you’ve lived with a long and winding track up in the hills for as long as we have, you’ve probably heard all the complaints so many times you could recite them in your sleep. But that doesn’t make the job any less onerous.
So it’s the cement-mixer chain gang for me and our friend Jeff, later in the week, after we get a few repairs done on some fencing and sheds. Such fun awaits!
But, to be sure, our visitors may thank us when it’s better, though the thanks will probably be in the form of not mentioning, this time, how bad the track is. It’s never going to be a motorway, though the crash barriers did come from renovation work on the M6!