In the lesser reaches of Hounslow, West London, Pikey Bill picked absently
at the side of the van, trying to tease up the corner of the unnecessarily
stubborn self-adhesive panel. With a corner of an eye, he noted young
Scrote's progress as he planted yet another poplar, thinking to himself that
if the youngster didn't get a move on, they'd still be here after dark.
Scrote sensed his gaze and looked up, barely concealing his irritation.
"Well," he said, "if you ain't going to help plant them, you can at least
tell me why we've recommended these crappy poplar. I mean, there ain't
another anywhere round here - hardly fit in do they? There's all sorts of
good stuff we could have picked". Liquidambar would've been nice he thought
to himself. Zelkova, even.
"Poplar's just the thing for here". said Bill. "Picked 'em because they grow
quick. And herons like them. The best heronries in London have poplars.
Won't be long before they're big enough for nesting in, and then there'll be
loads of herons around here".
"And that's a good idea is it?" retorted Scrote. "Loads of heron round here?
Like, right under flight path into Heathrow?"
Bill rolled his eyes - the little tyke never thought things through
properly; never saw the bigger picture. "Course it's a good idea. It means
we'll be back here to fell 'em before you know it. About the same time as
the first blasted heron gets here. But only if you get the damned things
planted".
His attention returned to the van. "Harry! Where's the new logo?" he called,
as he eventually managed to peel off the label proclaiming the vehicle to be
part of Gritswood & Toms' fleet. "We going to be Bratlett this week - or
Glendeal ?"
Harry Yarce, tree surgeon, was carefully unwrapping a newly arrived parcel.
He looked up.
"Don't much mind Bill, but you'd best chuck the Griffod one in the bin. The
blighter nearly caught me yesterday - livid he was. Seemed concerned about
his reputation. I mean, it's hardly our fault if the punters can't read
properly."
"Hardly" agreed Bill. "He's got a flamin' cheek though. Remember the time
he.....".
His words were obliterated as, in the middle distance, an Alitalia 747
roared off the end of the runway.
" ...and the insurance never found out!".
Harry laughed. "And anyway, the house weren't that badly damaged. Tree only
knocked the corner off it".
He grinned as he recalled young Scrote and himself leaping into the van,
offering a parting comment through the window. "And remember, Mr Anderson,
didn't someone say it ain't the tree, it's the 'ouse!".
He turned back to Pikey Bill, "Anyhow, we might not need the logos much
longer. We're branching out - expanding into new areas. Going up-market!"
"Oh aye - into what?"
"Subsidence. Monitoring and evaluation. There's a gap in the market I
reckon. I mean, look at it. More opinions than you could shake young Scrote
at. Half of 'em make less sense than trying to catch fleas in a fishing net.
Quantifiable evidence's what's needed. Here, have a look at these."
He reached into his pocket, and proffered a device comprising two small
rectangular glass plates; a delicately engraved vernier scale on the front
and a filigree silver tube at the back. "What do you reckon? Mercury damped
tell-tales. Damped specially. Accurate to a hundredth of a millimetre.".
Bill pointed at the filigree tube. "That's the special damping?"
"Yeah - fer inaccurate movement. Better than the ordinary ones." said Harry.
"My own design." he added proudly.
"Impressive. I guess we'll give young Scrote the lead on this, what with his
technical qualifications".
"We'll get him to fix 'em, and take the readings, certainly. But the
analysis? It'd really need an experienced eye to get the correct
interpretation. Best find out what he knows first. Scrote! You finished?"
"Yes guv"
"Tell us what you know about subsidence."
"Only on clay soils, right? Ok," said Scrote, taking a deep breath, "Under
saturated conditions, volumetric change is proportional to the moisture
ratio. Apply a negative potential and the voids ratio decreases.
Differential loading causes angular distortion and structural disintegrity.
Ok so far?"
Harry and Bill, expressions somewhat blank, groaned in unison.
Scrote changes tack. "Tree sucks out the water, and yer 'ouse falls down!"
Both Harry and Bill brighten and nod. "Oh, right. But how do you know it's
the tree that's done it?"
"It's seasonal." says Scrote. "Maximum photosynthetic substrate increases
the evapo-transpirational gradient; producing higher suction potential - all
at the time of minimum precipitative replenishment. Then in winter......".
Harry and Bill both glare at him
"...... it ain't got no leaves an' it rains".
"And the cracks?" prompts Bill
"Open in summer, and close in winter. Like I said, seasonal".
"Which is where these come in" says Harry, giving Scrote his first sight of
the new tell-tales. "There's all sorts out there who implicate the nearest
tree without any so called "proof". Fell it, they say. Because there's a
tree nearby, they just make assumptions. You know the sort of thing."
"Like them over at..." said Bill, as BA's one o'clock from Paris passed on
final approach "...if it jumped up and bit 'em".
"Which", said Harry, "sets off all the TO's a-bleating. Mind, you can see
their point. They're fighting a losing battle. They just haven't got the
time or resources to get evidence that it's not tree related or seasonal.
Which is where these come in." he continued, tapping a new tell-tale on the
end of young Scrote's nose. "We provide a service. I can see us using
plenty of these".
"Precise to 1/100th of a millimetre" says Bill
"And specially damped too" adds Harry
"But," asks Scrote, slightly baffled "doesn't mercury have a high
coefficient of expansion? It'll expand when it's hot and contract when it's
cold. It'll be pretty damned inaccurate."
"Like we said, specially damped for inaccuracy. And, like, seasonal?"
"Can't argue with proof Scrote. Just sharpen up the saws while I finish off
this bit of tarmac".
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