22nd March 2018
“I think I am going to die!” my heart was beating so hard, I thought it would break loose from its mountings.
Earlier I had a delivery of thirty-four, twenty kilogram bags of floor levelling compound that I had to man handle off a van that was blocking the road. Quickly a queue built up, watching as bag after bag went from van to pavement. Of course being British, the drivers had the patience of saints? Ah no. Soon they were calling out to move the van, I ignored them. Wine Street is used as a rat-run, so I don’t have any sympathy with them. The van driver was from Poland, and he was trying to appease them in his broken English, but to no avail. I estimated that we took no more than four to five minutes to unload the bags, so really a short time for the assholes to be inconvenienced.
Unloading the stuff was the easy part, next they had to be taken up to the house, up the notorious slip where even the fittest people falter.
I decided to use my waggon to move several bags at a time. I loaded four, and attempted to pull up the slope. I could barely get it to move. Andy came to the rescue, and as I pulled, he pushed. It was slow progress, I felt my legs turn to jelly as we turned the second corner. I got to the top on will power, my heart pounding like a steam hammer. It took nine life-sapping trips to get the bags to the bottom of the path where they were stacked, awaiting the short distance to the house.
I used the waggon again for the final leg, then collapsed on the step as the last bag was placed on the stack.
I hope this is building my strength, rather than shortening my life.
Another Lifetime to go 