sanding sir digby

The benches in the garden have been looking increasingly grubby so over the next few sessions the Sunday Workers will be giving them some much needed attention.  Some of the benches were varnished long ago and this has not stood up well to the thousands of backsides gracing them over the intervening years while others have lost their sparkle under layers of particularly persistent city grime.  Earlier in the year one bench received a soapy water and scrubbing brush quick fix but it was clear this wouldn't be quite enough of a treatment to bring them back to their best.

Here is the Sir Digby bench, released from it's chains for treatment.

Here are Peter and Pauline chatting as they sand off the dirt.

"Get back to work!"

(Look at that sun! I am hiding in the shade looking busy)

Here is Delia getting to grips with the grime on Louis Green.

I have to admit it is rather a grim task, all dust and dirt and blisters, but the persistence of the group does pay off - they are tenacious!  A few coats of linseed oil to feed and protect the wood (this doesn't flake like a varnish) and Sir Digby is clean and bright and once again ready for bums.

The clouds of dust floating about reveal the hidden webs of spiders and it is apparent just how many  are busy spinning in the garden. 

I read it is meant to be good year for spiders so I'm sure to be enjoying them as they hang mid-web in early autumn.  More on them then but in the meantime do be glad you're not a fly.

the bench is dead!

The green bench nestling in the arms of the tortured fig has probably been the favourite bench in the garden. In summer the leaves of the fig enclose it and the apparent privacy encourages all sorts of business - it is actually overlooked by the Pendrell ladies who inform me of all the fun in jaded tones (they really have seen it all before).

During its long tenure in the garden it has collapsed and been cleverly re-built time and time again to evolve from traditional park bench to a battered green truncation. It has finally succumbed to the abuses of garden life and is now beyond repair.

The joints have rotted from within and there are concerns that some overly-nourished amorous couple could become injured. Despite my gut feeling that a concealed camera would be the better option, reaping financial rewards with a 'You've Been Framed' payment of £250, I have been advised by the garden management committee that it has to go.