A few years ago I moved to a new location and reported to you on the mysterious lumps in a park not far from where I lived. Well, I now live fairly close to France, where the mysterious objects in local parks are of a different nature.
Until about 2015, if you happened to join the army and they decided you looked like the right sort of person to drive a tank, they would take you to a place called Hogmoor which was some woods with lots of muddy tracks and water traps to drive tanks around. Presumably you then did a tank driving test or something to prove you’d learned all their was to know about piloting big metal boxes around Hampshire woodland.
Anyway, after that the army decided they didn’t want to be involved in this part of Hampshire any more, so they went away, leaving behind large areas of a town that are being redeveloped into housing estates. They also left behind Hogmoor, which has been turned into the town’s equivalent of a park – except it doesn’t have big grassy lawns and flowerbeds, it’s just a big woodland with park-type things in it like an adventure playground and a cafe and stuff. I’m very happy with that because walking around in the woods is far nicer than walking around a manicured park.
The other thing Hogmoor has are all the bits of rusty debris the army didn’t take away when they left. I now walk the dog around here more or less every day, so I thought I’d share with you some of the mysterious military debris I keep finding lying around the place.
6 comments on “Mysterious debris”
Not only have you acquired the love for growing vegetables and a dog but you also are now having adventures without me and Kev. This is completely unacceptable.
What would you like me to do about it? Do you both want to come along every time I walk the dog? If so, it’ll be an adventure where you both have to share the poo bag duties.
It would be nice if you occasionally asked. Not every time but sometimes. I get the distinct impression you prefer this dog’s company to our own.
OK. How much notice do you think you’ll need? Fifteen minutes or so? I could make that work.
Five minutes to get up and dressed. Five minutes to get down to yours. Five minutes in case I get lost? Yeah that’d work.
Done and done. What I’ll probably do is write you a letter fifteen minutes before I go, because I think that a lot of the formality has gone missing from modern life, and that’s a shame.