Palings, Palings Everywhere… : Wednesday, 9th November, 1977

“Dad” brought me an old mattock which, he informed me, I could keep. He also handed me three plastic bags of galvanised two-inch nails. I was instructed to count the number of nails that were contained in one of the bags and then multiply this total by three to determine how many nails there were altogether. My grand total came to six hundred and fifteen.

On this warm, sunny day, which bore a maximum temperature of twenty-four degrees Celsius, I transported the remainder of the mound to beneath the lower rail and from about half past one unloaded a further one hundred palings from “Dad’s” red utility. I wheeled them up to the site as “Dad” erected what he termed a ‘height measure’, with the use of two palings and a board, to indicate a distance of one foot or thirty centimetres above the top rail.

He began to nail on the palings and after he had covered a distance of about eighteen feet or six metres we adjourned to partake of an orange juice each. I employed the use of the mattock and dug a trench in which the palings would sit. Where roots or rocks were encountered, I sawed an inch or two off a paling or palings to compensate for this.

“Dad” hammered one or two nails into each paling, but before we ceased work, at a quarter past five, he ensured that every paling was securely fastened by four nails. He hit his left thumb several times as tiredness overcame him. Once the final nail had been driven home he proclaimed that the fence would last longer than he.

I rubbed Tiki’s back, firstly with methylated spirits and thence with a cream, before we retired for the night.

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