Saturday, November 5, 2016

Three foot and Eleven Thirty Five

With a post hole digger, a laborer generally puts it away in the certain knowledge that it will never be used again. And here 'puts it away' might be a far too generous expression for tossing a post hole digger into the furthest corner of the barn. One of the consequences of this poor treatment of tools is that when time comes to use the post hole digger again the blades are crusted in petrified subsoil, they are about ten times heavier than they need to be and it takes a good three hours to work them into a condition fit for the dreadful task in hand.

The next phase of post hole digging includes a long and tedious debate about the possibilities around 'Three Foot of depth' and whether anyone will notice if the post hole is not Three Foot Deep, and it does go on a bit into a kind of tirade about which of the many neo-fascist characters determined that post holes need to be three foot deep. Nor is this particular weekend a good moment for the contemplation of distant dictatorial utterances. The finger of God is pointing down at us and for reasons I have never understood and even if I did understand them I wouldn't accept them as valid, this time tomorrow it won't be eleven thirty five in the morning, it'll be an hour early or later, I've no clue which.

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