Sat May 31, 2008 6:03 am
In recent weeks, the road to the Calomel farm has seen a certain level of traffic over and above the norm; carts bringing lengths of rough timber, scaffolding poles, ropes and the like.
In recent days, the farm has seen a certain level of activity over and above the normal bustle of ploughing, planting, digging, weeding, herding and the other activities that make up life on the estate. Men in stout boots have walked too and fro over the hilltop near the Baker-built farmhouse, with rods and plumblines and strange instruments and measuring-poles, marking out the ground with careful precision, a network of pegs and string taking shape like a broad web - at a small remove from the house, occupying a fine patch of ground with commanding views over the nearby landscape as it rolls gently away to the surrounding hills.
Today the farm sees a different sort of activity, with labourers arriving by foot and cart from town to supplement the farm's workers who've replaced plough and hoe with pick and shovel and barrow, and moved upon that string tracery with intent.
By the time the sun's sinking to the horizon, shallow trenches have started to take shape in the outline of what will eventually be a building, somewhat larger in scope than the current house, yet still compact. Foundations broad and, in time, deep.