This morning I fell in a pond…


Yes, really. Not merely slipped off the side and got my feet wet, this was a roll-in-sideways job, fully clothed in overalls and welly boots. I decided the rain was too bad to work in and I went to stand up. I was kneeling, and I went to put my left leg on the sticky-out planks that you see in the photo… the planks I had just sawn off to make the platform into the shape of a tadpole.

The only other time I can remember falling into a pond was when I was three. They say you can’t remember things from that age but that just ain’t true, folks. I had a new pair of wellies and I was trying them out. I didn’t know that the pond would come over my boots and can remember them filling up with water. Then I fell forwards. I don’t remember anything else. I’m told that the gardener (no, not ours, we didn’t even have a garden. My mother was working as a housekeeper at the time) found me floating face-down and hauled me out.

Some pond-dipping platforms don’t have handrails. The one at Whitmuir Organics WILL have one….

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