Sand day

I felt like helping Jim. He?s helped me enough times. So ?Can I borrow your big stepladder? ended up with me going round on Sunday morning to cut his extremely tall privet, using my long reach hedge cutter and standing on my van?s roof rack (which has a walkway). It would have been a nightmare for him to do it with a stepladder I reckon. The house was in town, one in a long straight terrace. The hedge was at the back, so I drove the van round the corner and up the back alley, and I parked outside Jim?s place. Luckily the houses on the other street that backed onto the alley had garages set back a couple of yards from the alley, so the van didn?t stop people walking past. In front of me, about fifty yards away, the alley was completely blocked by a large pile of sand. Actually it was two piles, one in front of the other. It looked like it was two loads from a small tipper lorry. As I was chatting with Jim an elderly lady came past the van pulling a wheelie bin. She was carrying a coal shovel, and reaching the pile she started to scoop up sand and tip it in the bin. We watched with interest. When she came back, dragging the wheelie bin, I said, ?Daft question maybe, but what are you doing?? ?Well it?s been flytipped, and people can?t get past, so I?m moving it.? ?It?s going to take you a long time.? ?Well, somebody?s got to do it.? She carried on down the alley, and as I was doing the hedge she made several more trips. After a while she met an old man who was carrying two bags of shopping. I couldn?t hear the conversation but after a few minutes the old man appeared with his own wheelie bin and coal shovel, and started to help. I happened to be on ground level when he went past on one trip. ?It?s good of you to help her!? ?Well, she wants to raise the level of her flower beds, and it seems like a good opportunity.? Hmm, I thought. Not as public spirited as she makes out then! They had made significant inroads into the pile when a fat man wearing a white vest and voluminous shorts appeared. ?Oi! Stop nicking my sand!? He was furious. The old lady was straight at him. ?It?s not nicking because it was flytipping, so it?s anybody?s! It?s been there since Friday! It?s flytipping!? ?It bloody well is not flytipping! My builder brought it on Friday so he could get an early start tomorrer! What you?ve nicked you?d better bring back, else I?ll ring the bobbies!? The old lady argued for a bit longer, with the old man standing back and grinning at me and Jim, but eventually she realised she was beat. She emptied her wheelie bin back onto the pile, and set off home to get another load. For a while she and the old man toiled away, bringing the sand back. The owner of the sand became more conciliatory and said, ?I rang Atkins when I saw what you were doing and had a grumble. Told him what had happened and asked him why the ?ell they?d tipped it in the middle of the alley instead of there.? He gestured towards the six foot of concrete drive in front of his garage. Just as I was getting ready to leave, a smart little van came down the alley. It turned out to be the boss of the building firm. He looked at the heap of sand as he got out of the van and squawked, ?Bloody Hell! What have they brought all that for! There?s four, five times as much as we need for this piddling job! I told them half a load!? He turned to the old woman and pointed at the pile of sand that she and her helper had brought back. It was quite a large pile. ?You can have that lot, and some more, with pleasure. Be doing me a favour.? And with that he was gone. When I left the old woman was shovelling sand into her wheelie bin. I shouted, ?Where?s your helper.? ?He?s gone in. I think he?s got t?monk on.?