Such soft hands

Just a quickie following on from the last post.

Picture in your head this. A sizable expanse which is nay but dust and rocks. It separates two large creaking barns and is backed by a babbling brook winding through an ancient woodland. The front of this lonely wasteland is the entrance to the new and exciting Welbeck Abbey Brewery.

OK, so in reality, it's the crappy yard in front of the brewery with 'ratty heaven', as Glenn the pest control man calls it, at the back. The added WOW factor in Welbeck beers could potentially be the locally sourced dust. This, we do not want. The powers that be have decided to lay a surface of reclaimed tarmac (dug up road from a near-by village) all over said yard to prevent it being a dust-bowl in summer and virtual quagmire in winter.

Being fed up of the desk and not permitted to help in the brewery installation (one can only presume this is because I am a) too week and feeble; b) a woman; and c) oh so young - see A Woman is Like a Tea Bag) I decided that I would spend the best part of the day helping to shovel, level out and lay the new surface. Of course after only a few minutes the decorator hollers across the wilderness "You should wear gloves when you're shovelling, love, you'll get blisters all over those lovely soft hands of yours". Idiot. Fair comment about the gloves, but sorry, soft hands? I'm a climbing, bell ringing brewer, I've not had soft hands since I was about 15.

Anyway, we're rolling the new yard surface this morning so hopefully we'll be a dust-free, easy access brewery in no time.

Just need a working brewery. Still.