Well, well, well...

 

I've got a small job to do for a great chum of senior years. He wants a new lid built on his well. I've measured up and find that he'll need around twenty-five yards of decking to cover the six ft hole.

And I'm not looking forward to it, because I'll be working at the edge all the time, looking down...

Some years ago, I worked with a lovely chap, who was a services engineer. He was a great consultant, well-liked and respected, and lived in a delightful old cottage not far from 'The Turrets'. We'll call him Dick, as funnily enough, that was his name!

Dick's house was old enough to have its own well in his garden, and he was very proud of it, especially as the design of the building was quintessentially 'middle 17th century Kent', and very well kept. Dick liked his garden, and was often out there, seeing to his plants etc., and also mowing his pleasant lawns.

One day, Dick wasn't there when his wife called out for him. Everyone searched everywhere, his car was still parked, and he was nowhere to be seen. The poor man had fallen down into his well, and of course was trapped, and drowned. His mower was seen nearby, and apparently, he'd tripped back and fallen in. It was an awful, tragic end to a life, and I've never forgotten what happened.

I heard that there is some sort of syndrome where, like vertigo, one is drawn to experience serious circumstances - a good chum even had to have counselling, because he once felt something about jumping off escalators, and indeed, nearly did at Guangzhou airport! Another time, we were on holiday in Bedfordshire, and sitting in the garden of a pub close to the airship hangars at Cardington. There was one up in the sky, tethered nearby, and the same sort of feeling happened! I nearly didn't finish my  pint!

So, just to say, if anyone notices a dearth of posts over the next week or so, you'll know I ran out of decking...