So, the fence needed fixing. Not the whole thing, thankfully, just a couple of posts were looking pretty wobbly after the last storm. I figured, how hard can it be? Just dig some new holes, pop the posts in, bit of concrete, job done. Easy peasy.
Then I remembered the digging part. My shovel’s okay for planting flowers, but digging deep, narrow holes for fence posts? No chance. That’s when I thought of Marcus next door. He’s got one of those proper post hole diggers. You know, the big scissor-looking things. I’ve seen him use it. He’s always got the right tool for the job, Marcus.
Heading over to Marcus’s
I wandered over there, hoping he was in. Caught him tinkering with his lawnmower, naturally. I explained the situation, the wobbly posts, my inadequate shovel. Asked if I could possibly borrow his digger for an afternoon.
He stopped tinkering, looked at me over his glasses. “The big yellow one?” he asked. Like he had a whole collection. “Yeah, that one,” I said. He wiped his hands on a rag. “Alright,” he said, “But bring it back clean. And don’t force it if you hit rock, you’ll bend the handles.” Fair enough, I thought.
He pulled it out of his shed. It was heavier than it looked. Handed it over with that little speech about cleaning it again. Felt a bit like I was signing my life away for a garden tool, but hey, needs must.
Getting Down to Business
Back in my garden, I started digging. And let me tell you, it wasn’t as easy as Marcus makes it look.
- First hole: Hit a massive tree root about six inches down. Took me ages wrestling with it. Marcus’s words about ‘not forcing it’ echoed in my head.
- Second hole: Mostly clay. Heavy, sticky stuff. Every time I pulled the digger out, it weighed a ton more. Cleaning this thing later was gonna be fun.
- Sweat factor: High. Very high. My back was aching pretty quickly.
Honestly, half the time I was just trying to figure out the best way to stand so I didn’t completely wreck my shoulders. It’s a proper workout. You grab the handles, plunge it in, pull the handles apart to grab the soil, lift, dump. Repeat. A lot.
I managed to get the two holes dug eventually. Not the neatest holes in the world, maybe a bit wider than strictly necessary because of that root and the wrestling match, but deep enough. Got the posts in, mixed the concrete, poured it. Stood back, looked okay. Ish.
Returning the Borrowed Item
Then came the cleaning. Took me a good twenty minutes with the hose and a brush to get all that clay off. Made sure it looked spotless, just like Marcus asked. Probably cleaner than when I got it, if I’m honest.
Took it back over. Marcus gave it a thorough inspection. Like, really thorough. Turned it over, checked the blades, the handles. Finally, he nodded. “Good,” he said. Just “Good.”
Walking back home, I was knackered but the fence posts were solid. Glad I borrowed that tool. Couldn’t have done it without it. But borrowing from Marcus… it always feels like a bit of an event, you know? Still, job done.
