The rope wasn’t up to it. I’ve known that for some time. Ever since it snapped and I got it back working as a single line; instead of the original double. Easy to see now that I should have renewed the rope then – but I didn’t. Meanwhile, granddaughters Hope and Jessica were itching for a bit of fresh air after our grand family celebration of Sammy’s birthday. It had stopped raining, so off we toggled, into the back garden where we have a small beck running behind the house and, as a means of conserving water, I have rigged up a bucket and rope pulley to haul supplies from the beck onto the top of the pack bridge. The girls wanted to have a go at filling the pail, but lacked sufficient strength to pull the laden bucket up. I got hold of the rope, gave it a tug, and hey presto, it promptly snapped, sending the bucket down into the swirling beck headed in the direction of the Irish Sea. The girls fell about laughing, whilst I dashed, at a moderate sort of pace to the gate lying downstream, in a desperate bid to save our bucket. I got through the gate and clambered down the rope dangling over the bank guarding the beck just as I saw the bucket headed towards me. What I also clocked was a delightful dipper that has made an intermittent appearance on our beck over the last few months perched between me and the bucket. Sensing an alarm, he headed back upstream, flying low over the water at a rapid rate of knots. I managed to just about retrieve the bucket, an object the girls promptly heralded as recovered treasure, and after a bit of a clean up, decorated and christened as”Brenda”.
Which all goes to show that sometimes a bit of a mishap can reveal rich blessings. Oh – and here’s a picture showing the moment before the dramatic rescue.