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My Pond,  "Mechanical Dancer"

Busy with other jobs we had almost forgotten about the main pond.  Now, when the time came to dig it out, the Bloke with the JCB lets us down.  Not his fault really, his employer has a really big job on and is keeping him working overtime evenings and weekends.   For us it's weeks of frustration, we even consider digging it by hand.  Then one day we are driving along when we spot this gigantic excavator sitting in a yard next to a small bungalow.  Bold as brass we drive to the house and knock on the door. A sweet little-ole-Lady answers the door and explains that although the excavator is sitting in her yard she doesn't know how to drive it,........ but her Son does..!   Would He call us?  Yes, she will give him our number.

Two days later we get a call from Alistair who explains that he isn't actually a builder, he's a demolition contractor, but would love to have a go at pond digging.  He calls to the house and does a quick calculation of how much soil is involved, about 80 tonne he reckons.   I see Michael look skeptical, but I had already done a similar calculation and arrived at a figure of 76 tonne.  If Alistair could just look at a garden and visualise a hole for a pond, and work out the weight of soil in his head, then I was happy that he knew what he was doing.  We struck a deal and he promised to be back Saturday morning to do the job.

07:30 on Saturday morning and I get a thump in the back from the wife "What on Earth is that noise?" she asks.  Looking out the window I see Alistair unloading an excavator from the back of a low-loader and setting off up the driveway in the direction of the back garden.   Over a quick cup of coffee he briefs me on his plan of attack and double-checks critical points like depth and angle of walls etc. Then, to an audience of neighbours who have come out to see the idiot who disturbed their Saturday morning lay-in, he sets about ripping up what used to be a nice lawn.   It was true poetry in motion, the bucket never stopped moving even for a second as it scooped, swiveled and tipped in a single flowing motion.  Within minutes the first of eight 10 tonne loads was roaring off up the road in a huge tipper truck.  By 3 O'clock Alistair was stuffing my hard-earned cash in his back pocket and heading home to watch the end of the football on TV.   All Michael and I had to do was tidy the slope on the walls and base and shovel out any loose debris, but that story's on the next page.!