In the first few weeks of my voluntary work for the Countryside Service, I received many instructions about health and safety matters. I began work in the Autumn, when the programme of tree felling and thinning out was in progress. Naturally enough, when there is chainsaw work going on, it is necessary to know the basic rules about working safely, such as wearing protective headgear, standing a good distance away from the tree being felled and so on. But I have noticed that these reminders have become less as time has gone on and we are engaged in different tasks.
Now I don't mind at all being reminded of safety matters, since I am the kind of person who tends to get stuck into a task with enthusiasm, to the extent that I overlook, or am forgetful of the need to be careful. But today was a day when two of us (The Birdman, and I) sustained some kind of small injury.
We were doing more fencing work. There are many miles of footpaths in the County, which means many miles of fencing, wicket gates and stiles which need maintenance or repair. Armed with a map and what The Birdman called "intelligence", we drove down some out-of-the-way country lanes to find our way to some rolling farmland, set among the disused quarries and mines of this limestone area. I have described in previous blog posts the process of clearing away any damaged or rotting fencing, digging post holes, installing the fence posts and then attaching any rails that are needed to complete the structure.
There were several tasks on the list, the first of which was to replace a waymarking post. The old one was suffering from rot, so it was necessary to remove it, as we try to put the replacement as near as possible to the old, if possible using the same hole. Removing an old post might seem an easy job. This one gave us a few difficulties. We dug down and discovered that the bottom of the post, a good way underground, had a metal cross through it, thereby anchoring it securely. In the course of unearthing it, I was rocking the post back and forth in order to loosen the soil around it. During one of these wiggles, I managed to get my head in line with the post as I rocked it towards me, and gave myself quite a bump. After seeing that I was OK, my co workers fell about with hilarity, saying they had never seen anyone head-butt a post before. Very funny, I am sure! The post finally came out and we were able to put in the new one.
I have been a bit concerned about the distribution of work when there are three of us. It is perfectly possible to stand aside and let the lads do it all, especially as I find some of the tools too heavy to use effectively. But I have found that I can take over and do a bit of digging for instance, when they pause for a rest. So they do most of the heavy work, which is fine because I am too slow if I do that. Instead I make myself useful by doing the fetching and carrying, sawing off bits of wood to make a neat job, and mixing cement for fixing the posts in position. I am good at mixing cement, I know the proportion of chips to cement to water, and I know what it looks like when it is ready to use. The amounts we use for the posts is small, so we mix it with a spade on an old piece of hardwood, or whatever happens to be around.
After we finished work on this waymarking post, we drove the pickup down what used to be a lane to a farm. There were curlews and lapwings everywhere. I love their cries. The land is now a grassy strip between two stone walls. About half a mile further on we came to a pair of very large old iron gates across the lane, with a stile to one side. We needed to open the iron gate, but it took three of us to lift it, it weighed a ton. They don't make them like that any more! It was at this stile that we were to do our next job of installing a wicket gate. This job proceeded more easily, as the soil was easy to dig, although in one of the post holes we encountered some stones that had to be crowbarred out. The post hole was quite close to a dry stone wall, and whilst wielding the crowbar, The Birdman inadvertently banged his fingers between the crowbar and the stone wall. I think he received a quite painful bruise. There is nothing that health and safety can do to protect us against this kind of injury, other than being constantly aware of potential hazards. We installed two posts and some rails between them, but ran out of time before we were able to attach the gate. The lads would return the next day to finish the job.
Whilst we were there, one of the farmers drove up in his landrover to see what we were doing. He carefully explained who the land belonged to and asked if we had permission to be there. The conversation was polite and civilised, though at the same time there was an underlying tension I felt on both sides. Of course, it had all been cleared with the appropriate landowner. However it is easy to see how, on the one hand a farmer might feel annoyed if he thought that people were doing things without permission, whilst on the other hand the Countryside people are trying to do a job. It can easily lead to misunderstandings and bad feeling unless everything is sorted out beforehand. I think there is an uneasy relationship between the landowners across whose land the footpaths run, and the bodies who are charged with looking after them.
I have been a bit concerned about the distribution of work when there are three of us. It is perfectly possible to stand aside and let the lads do it all, especially as I find some of the tools too heavy to use effectively. But I have found that I can take over and do a bit of digging for instance, when they pause for a rest. So they do most of the heavy work, which is fine because I am too slow if I do that. Instead I make myself useful by doing the fetching and carrying, sawing off bits of wood to make a neat job, and mixing cement for fixing the posts in position. I am good at mixing cement, I know the proportion of chips to cement to water, and I know what it looks like when it is ready to use. The amounts we use for the posts is small, so we mix it with a spade on an old piece of hardwood, or whatever happens to be around.
After we finished work on this waymarking post, we drove the pickup down what used to be a lane to a farm. There were curlews and lapwings everywhere. I love their cries. The land is now a grassy strip between two stone walls. About half a mile further on we came to a pair of very large old iron gates across the lane, with a stile to one side. We needed to open the iron gate, but it took three of us to lift it, it weighed a ton. They don't make them like that any more! It was at this stile that we were to do our next job of installing a wicket gate. This job proceeded more easily, as the soil was easy to dig, although in one of the post holes we encountered some stones that had to be crowbarred out. The post hole was quite close to a dry stone wall, and whilst wielding the crowbar, The Birdman inadvertently banged his fingers between the crowbar and the stone wall. I think he received a quite painful bruise. There is nothing that health and safety can do to protect us against this kind of injury, other than being constantly aware of potential hazards. We installed two posts and some rails between them, but ran out of time before we were able to attach the gate. The lads would return the next day to finish the job.
Whilst we were there, one of the farmers drove up in his landrover to see what we were doing. He carefully explained who the land belonged to and asked if we had permission to be there. The conversation was polite and civilised, though at the same time there was an underlying tension I felt on both sides. Of course, it had all been cleared with the appropriate landowner. However it is easy to see how, on the one hand a farmer might feel annoyed if he thought that people were doing things without permission, whilst on the other hand the Countryside people are trying to do a job. It can easily lead to misunderstandings and bad feeling unless everything is sorted out beforehand. I think there is an uneasy relationship between the landowners across whose land the footpaths run, and the bodies who are charged with looking after them.
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