An old paling fence, standing high above a plinth board underneath, representing a boundary in the garden between my neighbours property and mine, was slowly, painstakingly, pulled down in sections of about six meters at a time. Multiply this by a good six sections - it added up to an enormous task. Until my neighbour and I began the undertaking, I hadn't realized just how large a task, until we got started.
Over the years, it had gathered rainwater along the horizontal supports, rot was slowly increasing year by year, until one day my neighbour mentioned that, some day soon it will need to be replaced. At this, I chirped up that winter would be a suitable time, as by then the large spreading roses on my side would have been pruned. Heavily if necessary. They had served me well, shedding their many white petals throughout the back garden, and yes, all over the patio and up the side of the house, which was undercover. Providing the weather over the winter wasn't too wet, it would be an ideal time to get the fence replaced. It needed to be done and the task wasn't going away in a hurry. So meeting it head on I did.
As I had been on my own for thirty years, I'd been accustomed to trying anything once, providing it was physically possible and I knew I was reasonably capable. My father had always been handy, but was this something a woman should indulge in and tackle? After all, she was meant to be the fairer sex, to possess feminine qualities. Her place in the past was always in the home, not equipped with hammer, nails, screwdrivers, electric drills and the like. I guess the fairer sex have evolved somewhat since the dark ages. It's now possible to see them driving public transport, serving in the armed forces, at the head in board rooms, even running countries!
I've always been of the opinion that you either do things yourself, or pay someone else to do it for you - while you relax, sipping a gin and tonic, or vodka for that matter. The latter idea was soon pushed to one side, as I'm afraid I appear to take after my father, always aware if I was biting off more than I could chew. I have vague early memories of when he made me a wooden toy to push around the garden while I was barely walking, collecting everything I could lay my small hands on. That part I remember, as I was always picking the daisies and still do. In fact I've always grown them. My father was practical and there's no denying it - I definitely take after him. Perhaps this is to my advantage, but not if it means losing one's feminine qualities. But I digress.
Being well aware that my neighbour, Danny, was every bit capable of replacing the fence, there was no way I would expect him to do it all himself. He worked all week and Saturday mornings, hence his spare time was vastly limited. So I set my mind firmly, that it would be possible to act as 'builder's mate' for the duration of replacing the fence - whatever that took! Like many other things undertaken over the years, it would be a first for me. Somehow I convinced myself I was capable. It appears my neighbour thought so too. He didn't hesitate to agree.
In the past, Danny had achieved much. By now I was aware he possessed more than one shed, with many tools for different jobs - be they plumbing, electrical or even for replacing bathrooms with exact precision and mending rooftops from storm damage. There were tools for mending his roof and building an extension to his house. As I found out while borrowing a sledge hammer (!), everything was kept in pristine condition and in an extremely tidy fashion. I was more than impressed.
It was time to begin on the fence.
During the week I set about stripping off the old wooden palings of the first six meter section - up to the second upright post - and after the first few, armed with only a hammer, knocking off the 1.8m high timbers, one at a time, the nails soon easing away from the horizontal supports. Although my neighbours didn't have a lot growing on their side, I was careful to catch most of the palings and place them on their grass as I went. They came in two widths, so were graded and kept together, later standing upright on their back fence neatly. Many were still usable, so a friend of theirs would later come and take them for a new purpose in life. Otherwise, they were to be loaded and taken to the tip - by us of course. I soon found just how many needed to be loaded, then unloaded.
Fortunately, the weather was fine, not too cold and no strong wind to make things unpleasant. I worked hard, gathering up the rotting timbers, some still embedded with bugs and beetles, which wasn't a good sign.
It also became obvious that I would visit the local huge warehouse-type shop to order the first lot of very long supports and posts to be delivered. The former were 5.40m long and not all that easy to manoeuvre in my driveway after delivery. Then, as Danny had earlier supplied me with free old engine oil, I painted each one carefully, to help keep the rain from rotting the new timbers. Hopefully, it may keep bugs and beetles at bay, too. (This reminds me of when I lived in the countryside, in the west of England. I installed tree trunk horizontal dividers in the stable area, at the end of our garden. This separated my horse from my daughter's borrowed pony - very successfully. I then built two lots of stable doors, with free pallet timber from the small factory, at the bottom of the lane. I made the top and bottom stable doors on the kitchen floor, bracing them with cross timbers, screwed firmly into place. A nearby garage supplied me with free old engine oil to keep the weather out. This was painted on and proved highly successful. The stable doors, both top and lower ones, are still intact many years later!)
As I'd had a fair amount of pain and discomfort from my tennis-playing shoulder, I was glad to get as much done as possible before the cortisone injection was to be administered soon. There's no use expecting it to work, while you're still lumping heavy wood around the garden and knocking the life out of an old fence! It was utterly necessary to crack on while the going was good.
The first weekend arrived and Danny was to take Saturday off for once, in order to get as much work done on the adjoining fence as possible. He inspected the first three posts and it was decided to replace two of them. Hence, he dug down deep with a long-handled shovel, a pickaxe, and soon needed his electric pneumatic drill to loosen up the old cement. Then on hands and knees, I scooped up as much soil and large stones as possible, to clear out the hole and under the old plinth boards, enabling him to lever out the old heavy posts. The boards were easily removed.
Thank goodness the weather was holding fine so far, although chilly at times.
Over lunch time the new cement was beginning to harden around the base of the new posts. Danny had cut out sections to accommodate the new horizontal supports. Soon after, we visited the same large warehouse, called Bunnings, for the first lot of palings and anything else we needed. His vehicle was a large utility, which meant it was possible to load easily, holding a great deal at a time. But alas, later that day he twisted an ankle, causing it to swell badly. So, on subsequent trips to Bunnings to collect more and more timber, etc., I was able to drive his vehicle with no trouble whatsoever. We even hired a free trailer and I drove back to his place carefully, with the very long timbers propped up and tied to the trailer. I was surprised he trusted me, but trust me he did. He really had no choice.
We soon got into a rhythm attaching the new palings to the fence supports. Danny wielding the huge heavy nail gun expertly, while I busied myself efficiently each side of him, holding them in the exact place before nailing. Two wide ones, then two narrower ones.Thank goodness I have a good eye for straightness. At the completion, not one paling was slanting, (well not by very much), which was just as well. Neither of us would have fancied repeating the task.
Work progressed at a constant rate, completing a good section of fence during the first weekend. Danny's leg and ankle didn't improve much, but the fence did. I rather enjoyed the outdoor activity and the more exercise I received, the happier I was.
The following week I set about tearing down the next section of old fencing while Danny went to work each day. Working at my own pace was enjoyable, although the two of us got along very well. I anticipated what was necessary, and tried dutifully to assist when and where possible. Much of it was common sense and I appear to possess enough of it to get by. What was really hard work, were trips to the tip - loading and unloading his vehicle. Hard work wouldn't hurt me, but might kill me instead! Not just yet it seems. Joints aren't what they used to be either and it was showing! Also further trips to Bunnings for more timber was fun, as I got to drive Danny's utility truck, with another free trailer attached, which I've never done before, but managed well. I think he was quietly impressed - that is until I pulled carefully out of the tip onto the wrong side of a minor road, briefly. As usual, there was no panic from Danny, just raised eyebrows and a curious look on his face. All was forgiven, as I noticed my error quickly and got back on track. Hey ho! I thought he'd lose faith in me, but apparently not. Don't think he had a choice quite honestly, as there was no improvement with his ankle.
Our adjoining fence progressed and so did the tiredness. Any hefty showers conveniently arrived at lunch time or when we were in Bunnings. The drive-in facility to the timber section was appreciated.
The last section of fence was apparent and I was allowed the honour of ramming the last nail into the upright timber. I knew this gadget had a kick, as each time Danny pressed the trigger to fire a nail, a fierce pulse of air wasn't far from my face. I soon got to know when it was coming, avoiding the oncoming gusts by looking away at the exact moment. It needed some careful timing. A few times the blast was so fierce, it blew Danny's cap right off his head into the garden! I couldn't help laughing.
So I braced myself well, took aim and fired. It was completed at last. We stood back briefly to admire our workmanship, before I helped him tidy up his garden and replace the tools.
It appears a woman's work is never done, but at least we are capable, if our minds are set to the task at hand - and yes, thankfully, Danny's foot improved.
Since this project was completed last winter, I've decided to replace the roof over my patio area. The present roof was an insurance job and lets in too much heat from the sun in summer and of course leaks. If you want a job done properly - do it yourself!!!
Danny will be the boss and I will be his slave, (builder's mate) as usual. Bunnings have been visited, pricing new materials to be purchased nearer the time and measurements and calculations done. He has agreed to help out and naturally has already replaced his own roof over an amazing outdoor entertaining area, complete with BBQ, TV and large dining table and chairs. Having neighbours like these, has made living where I do, more than a pleasure.
