J. Karst’s JourneyThrough RecyclingWest Berkshire
‘Welcome to the new edition of this Guest Blog. I am a full-time working mum of 2 boys and a published novelist of ‘The Ninth Cross’ by my pen name J. Karst. I get involved in trying that little bit I can in saving the environment for the future generations.’
In case you didn’t notice, I taken two weeks off as holidays. I spend my time wisely by not resting at all. I squeezed in as many chores as possible and even managed my apiary. I got honey filled supers off my hives whilst some kamikaze minded bees crawled into my suit, down my shoe, under my sock and stabbed me on my ankle. It was painful considering that I am allergic to a bee sting. My ankle swelled up ten times its size which made it impossible to put a shoe on. To make things more entertaining, I ran out of jars. After fast order request they arrived incomplete, and I am still waiting for the lids.
As I am very productive in resting, I thought to fit in as much time metal detecting as I could. To all those unaware of the hobby, it’s basically arm killing work including a whole load of digging for the hope that maybe one day you find something worth-while.
The beach sounded like a good idea and so I spent days surrounded by an inquisitive beach goer who love to stop you detecting to ask interesting questions. About thousand time later I was asked the same questions – ‘What detector is best at finding gold?’, or ‘Is this your full-time job?’ and ‘Can you travel thousands of miles away to find my washing line’, I have been near the end of my patience. I thought that maybe I should have worn a fluorescent jacket and replied to these questions ‘no, I am not metal detecting, I am scanning for unexploded mines and if I was you, I wouldn’t move.’
In the end with all the hope in the world, my beach finds equalled to one pair of broken sunglasses, multiple hair clips, dozens of bullets, and random metal nails in a different form of decomposition. The only treasure was discovery of loose change totalling £2.60 which wouldn’t pay for quarter of the petrol to get there, not to mention the parking costs.
Defeated, I tried my luck with local permission to detect on a pasture. I spend hours trying to find some treasures whilst young inquisitive bulls followed my every step. Occasionally they tried to show off their herd protecting skills but as soon as I turned to face them, they would run away. The pasture was more productive as I found a piece of history – one crotal bell and a medieval nail. They weren’t the only finds, my pouch was bulging with random metal bits like horseshoes, wires and bits of ploughing equipment.
My husband wasn’t impressed with ability at treasure hunting and assessed it as a complete waste of time. Through my two weeks holidays I collected enough iron to add weight for the charity metal recycling to bring in some much- needed cash and enough lead to renovate the local church roof…
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