19 August 2021
Thursday. Quiet hour before the gate opened, so I measured the boxes. Habit from the old job.
Two metres long. Seventy centimetres across. Fifty deep. Same both sides, to the millimetre. Whoever built these knew what they were about. You can lie flat and move your arms about. You cannot sit up. I tried. Banged my head. Tuppence watched.
Wrote the numbers on the inside of the shed door so I would not have to do it again.
Tonight there was a lad at the gate who must have been six foot six if he was an inch. He looked at the boxes and the boxes looked at him. One of the staff had a gentle word, and he went off to try something with more headroom, and his mate went with him. Good call. Two metres is two metres, however you lie.
Tally: plots disturbed, two. Soil, considerable. Heads banged, one, mine.
— H., groundskeeper
