Strictly speaking not Nick…
Today we had the sparks round to trace a dubious cable in the garden and during their excavations they discovered a car battery charger. A little recherché I think. The best explanation any of us could think of is that the former warden (a noted bodger) buried it for reason or reasons unknown. He might have just wanted rid or possibly it was like those old Egyptians who inhumed funereal goods. Hell of an afterlife if you got a Ford Escort that won’t ever start in the morning – for all of eternity.
Reminds me of my mate Spanner. He was in the ATC (RAF cadets) at school and he was on exercises in the wilds of Northumberland and he gets the job of digging the latrine. Anyway his spade bit into a collection of bones. Well, it’s night and the coroner’s lot turn-up at 3am. You can imagine he was Mr popularity. It was like, “Spanner you had the whole National Park to dig in and you had to find the boneyard!” Well, everyone is kept up very late (during which Spanner’s stock falls further) and the police etc do their thing.
It turned out it was the remains of four greyhounds with no heads or feet. Personally up on those windswept moors at the dead of night I’m not sure I wouldn’t have preferred to find human remains. That would have made sense at least. Oh, and as Spanner trudged off to dig the khazi the ATC lads and lasses had been telling ghost stories. You can picture the scene as he runs back into camp having dug-up bones.
The sparks took the battery charger away. They did ask if we wanted it. It didn’t look exactly straight out of the Halford’s box.