GETTING STUCK IN

The machine stood under a nice blue waterproof sheet for a year or two, providing a novel feature in our rear garden but ongoing pointed comments from family members (who can be very hurtful at times) finally forced me to take the cover off and check whether the thing still worked.

It did! The erstwhile garden ornament seemed to be in perfect health so that a dignified withdrawal from the prospect of concrete laying (while muttering "Oh dear, the machine has died") was no longer possible.

My initial plan was rejected by the 'Local Authority '- my wife Jill - who took a lot of convincing that I could not easily enshrine one of her fractal designs in concrete; but finally she relented, agreeing on a simple pattern of cement and brick pavers (which was just about acceptable to her) and the stage was set for the first act.

Play began with breaking up the old concrete, which all of a sudden seemed to have fewer cracks and flaws than before, and to be mainly in quite large very solid looking sections that would have lasted for years - wishful thinking - and much too late anyway!

Certainly a hammer and chisel had little effect and it was neccessary to hire a demolition hammer drill, which did the trick but was heavy, noisy and vibratory, and after breaking up half of the drive as planned for the first stage, I was still vibrating for about a week afterwards.

A skip was hired, which gave an opportunity to get rid of general rubbish as well as old concrete, and I set to work loading it so enthusiastically that later on I was short of hardcore needed to allow for the small raising of level planned, and had to buy some. 'A perfectly understandable slip-up  given the difficulty of calculation with an uneven surface' I felt, although in other quarters a somewhat less understanding reaction to the error was voiced!

On the left you can see a picture of the right hand side of the driveway completely reduced to rubble apart from a small strip of old material alongside the wall which I am carefully removing with hammer and chisel.

It was time to check that I was properly 'tooled up' for the job,and sort out appropriate clothing. I found an old pair of shoes, trousers well past the first flush of youth, tatty sweatshirt and T-shirt, and a waterproof quilted anorak which defies description. An antiques expert would go into raptures over the authentic patina on this jacket, acquired over the years, although the ignorant masses might be tempted to class it as just filthy.

A pack of 488 brick pavers was ordered together with 25 bags of cement and 40 bags of all-in ballast so that a start could be made, and naturally these did not arrive until the end of a day when we had planned to spend the evening at a Country music club. This stuff had to be transported to the rear of the house for storage, so we didn't get to see our band, but no doubt the exercise was good for us.

The next day the available hardcore was spread evenly, wooden formwork was fixed in place to enclose the first section to be tackled, and I was ready to switch on the cement mixer which (with one half of our driveway resembling a bomb site) I now fervently prayed would work.

All this activity was beginning to arouse the interest of people in passing cars and on the top deck of buses, while typical comments from neighbours and passers-by included "That looks like fun", "You must be mad" and "Can I play if I bring my own bucket and spade".  Nevertheless, passing the time of day with these folk has been one of the more pleasant aspects of the job.