Page 22 - Kol Bogrei Habonim - January 19
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"Okay Maurice, dawn't despair. Yar'll be arlright." gettin' orn. Suddenly from the direction of the
He drove off. mansion came a tremendous clanging noise.
My ditch was progressing painfully slowly and Right, that must be the "come and get it" gong.
unevenly and the spade kept catching on hidden Breathless, reaching the kitchen door by the wash
roots and stones. Hobbs must have selected a taps and grids, I found Jack vigorously scrubbing
rootless spot without rocks. Instead of the soil his Wellies under a rushing torrent. He was almost
coming up in firm, clean clods, it disintegrated as entirely covered in cow-dung, and my nose wasn't
I threw it aloft, arriving at the surface in crumbly deceiving me either. I made a mental note not to
clods, and promptly falling back in. Moreover, the sit at his table at breakfast. He flashed me a
bits kept getting inside my boots, and the mud on perfect set of white teeth.
my hands was drying out making me squirm with "Well, Maurice, managed to get up this morning, I
discomfort. see."
I suddenly noticed that I'd cut a worm in two. One "Yep, alright. Work's pretty boring, though."
half wriggled its way into a soft mound of earth, "Watcha doin'?"
the other exuding a mix of blood and grey, wet
soil onto my spade. "Sorry mate," I apologized. A "Hedging and ditching."
robin equipped with its regulation red-breast "Cushy job!"
alighted on a branch above my head. We were "Well, I'm starving, Jack. Coming in to eat?"
both watching the same wriggling worm. Which
half? The head bit, which might grow a new tail, I left him still scraping caked dung off his
or the fated tail part? Late January, the scene Wellies. I went through the kitchen to say hullo to
recalled the old nursery rhyme: The North Wind Raymond who was busily frying eggs and didn't
doth blow and we shall have snow…. There and notice me go by. But he heard Jack's voice close
then, with Jim Hobbs safely at home over bacon on my heels.
& eggs, and me there digging away merrily in that "'Ullo Ray, what's cookin'? Don't tell me it's
five-acre field, I took a short break and began porridge again, is it? In England, we don' even
improvising a crazy song in dodecaphonic style, feed 'orses wiv it…Bleedin' Scots."
just as Schoenberg might have done it… well "Och it's not you again Jack is it? Get orf a ma
almost: barck, wull yu. It's semolina, for your
"And what will, what will the Ro-o-oh-bin do- unformation. Trrry some. Ut'll meek a marn of
oo…%% dhoo thehehen, poor sod... yu."
I scratched the notes of my brilliant composition "Christ! Snotty semolina. With or without
on a clean piece of soil with Hobbs' forked stick. cascara?"
Creativity forever. The bird got the worm, the "With it, av courrrse. Oh, what yu been doing
front end, of course. Good job Hobbs was
elsewhere, otherwise he'd have had me committed Mohrris?"
straight off to Maidstone Psychiatric Hospital, "Hedging and ditching. Down by our cottage."
without waiting for explanations on Schoenberg's "Grreat. Did you nip in fer a wee snooze, then,
method. while Jim Horbbs wasn't lookin'?"
Mealtime "Oh, come off it, Ray. I'm the new boy. Gotta
My song over, my first day's work well into make a good impression, on the first day, at least."
swing, and my ditch progressing at the staggering
rate of 1.2 yards per hour as against Hobbs' 2 "Och, no one fools Jim Horbbs, except Jack – the
yards in 5 minutes, in full riding gear. He'd biggest skiver of them arl. But Jim seems to
probably be back soon to see 'ow thu work was worship Jack's shitty denims. Right Jack?"
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