A Work In The Park

An Exhausting Read
Hopefully, if I get the mise en scene across properly.  Conrad's mighty employer, whom you may be able to identify from a photo here, was pushing mightily for volunteers to carry out "Community Work" in Heaton Park.  This would be weeding Himalayan Balsam and cutting back rhododendrons, regardless of weather.  Regardless!  So the mention of "Thundery showers" on the Beeb's website proved a tad worrying.
     Anyway, it was a day off the phones (which is perhaps not quite the type and level of commitment expected), however rainy or muddy it might be.
     The weather on arrival wasn't bad.  Art?

The graded greens of Heaton Park

     Indeed, while we were outside there was only a spotting of occasional rain.
     First, a little background to the Park.  During Spring and Summer the grounds staff, all 4 of them, are kept busy mowing the grass, as this is it's peak growth season.  Given that there are 640 acres of park, that's 160 acres per person, and even if it's not all grass they cannot do much else, which brings us to the HIDEOUSLY EVIL HIMALAYAN BALSAM!  Art?

Gaze upon it's eeeevil.  Picturesque but EVIL!

     Some eager Victorian explorer brought this stuff back from India and it got planted at Buckingham Palace, and we were told that every bit throughout the Pond of Eden is descended from that first intruder.  A single plant will seed and spring up over an area of 7 yards square in a year; the seeds tend to travel by water, seeding at the water's edge and then invade from there on.  Our doughty gardening chap informed us, after about an hour, that we'd cleared more than he could do in an entire day.

Your humble scribe.
Totally rocking the hard-hat look

     We then retired to the courtyard above, where Conrad admitted defeat whilst fighting against a huge fish-and-chips, although I saw off the fish and most of the chips.  I'd kept the hunger pangs at bay with a packet of crisps and two bottles of water and three packs of trail mix, mind.
     Remember, it's still a day off the phones!
     Okay, bear in mind that the Himalayan Balsam has a very shallow root system and is thus easy to pluck from the ground.  Our next, much more physical, challenge was to lop and chop back a path overgrown by rhododendron bushes, which might better be called "trees" as that's how tall they were, and "Rhododendron" is Greek for "Rose Tree".  Art?

Doctor Who monster on the attack!
No, sorry, I meant it's a Rhododendron (easily confused)

     We had the companionship of a couple of what might be called "Staff Dogs" as they belong to the Park staff, extremely friendly animals too.  However, when Conrad was scraping fetid sod off the path and chucking it onto the border, Dog One would not move away.  You could read her mind:"Mmmm!  Delicious stinking almost-excrement!  I must move in closer to investigate!" and "Get lost human I love this stuff!   Mmmmmmm!"
     Lopping off twigs, sawing off branches and shovelling the kerb clean was a lot more tiring than the Balsam.  But we really hit those bushes hard.  Art?

The cleared kerb is just visible left of centre

     However tired we got, Conrad never tired of remarking that it was still "A day off the phones", although by this time he was getting looks of annoyance rather than smiles and laughter.
     Our mighty employer had very thoughtfully provided blue plastic tabards for us to wear, which proved a mixed blessing, especially for Martin, who came clad in t-shirt and trainers instead of waterproofs and boots.  The tabards were waterproof themselves, yet also trapped sweat, getting as wet on the inside as the outside.  Art?

A character study of your humble scribe

     That's me with the tabard over my coat, which didn't last long as I'd have collapsed with heatstroke.  
     Their second function was proven when we were resting from our labours and a passer-by asked who we were and what we were doing.  Conrad, never at a loss for words, promptly explained what we were doing and how the Park relied on an effort like this to sustain itself, the words rolling off his tongue like a well-practiced monologue.
     "I see," replied this gentleman.  "Because the only other groups I ever see here are people from open prisons."
     Quite.
     Now, recall how I said we got away with only a few mild sprinkles during our work day?  Absolutely true.  There we were, awaiting our transport back to the Electric Goldfish Bowl, in the upper car park.  Art?

Take a good look

     Open to the heavens, right?  No cover at all.  When the first taxi arrived, Conrad did offer to defer to Alison or Charlotte, who politely refused, preferring to wait for the second one.
     This, to be blunt, was a mistake, as a few minutes after we left the heavens opened with an appalling barrage of rain.  "No cover at all" rang in my head.  Indeed, we did not see the second taxi pass us going into the park for a good five minutes, so ...
     Don't fret, Alison or Charlotte (nor Terry or Martin) - it was still a day off the phones!

Damn.  A whole post about your gigging gardener and his lark in the park.  Later for The Attack Of The Cyborg Weasels!