Happy New Year everyone! Yes, we've had another Christmas break, we're all sick to death of turkey and mince pies, and we're all SO glad to be back working in the fresh air again. And fresh is the word: fresh, clear, not even wildly cold, although the clouds were a bit threatening.

First job of the day: litter picking. The rain we've had recently has washed over the large piles of dredgings, and revealed all the broken glass and 'orrible things within. This looks worse than bad, and does nothing to aid our cause, so every so often we have to grit our teeth and painstakingly pick up all the bits. Here's Jim, Malcy and Phil with a bucket apiece, and firmly gritted teeth. (Old joke: "Arm the men to the teeth." ""Sorry sir, can't do that." "Why not? No arms?" "No sir, no teeth!" Sixpence to the first person to tell me where that quote comes from.) (Update: within minutes, sixpence goes to Malcy who correctly identified it as coming from Tales of Old Dartmoor, a Goon Show episode)

Well, here's the first half hours' worth: not bad, eh? Of course, it's easy to criticise our parents and grandparents for chucking rubbish in the canal (a tradition which continues to the present time) but in the days before everything came in six layers of packaging, there was really very little "rubbish": any sort of edible waste went to the chickens or on the compost, paper and cardboard went on the sitting room fire or in the range, and plastic hadn't really been invented. All that left was glass and metal, and the odd ceramic or pottery item, usually broken. These were frequently just thrown out into the back garden, as can be confirmed by anyone who, like me, spends a lot of time digging.

Once the canal was abandoned (sob! poor thing!) in 1914, it must have been a temptation beyond resistance to use it as unofficial landfill, especially as by then, the population of Wantage was starting to expand, as was the sheer volume of non-organic rubbish. Just look at all these bottles! Lots of one-third of a pint milk bottles, remember those at school lunch break? Then we have lemonade bottles, beer bottles, and a surprising number that are embossed with names like "armandi" and "marmite". We even found a milk-of-magnesia bottle with the lid intact, complete with a little wad of cotton wool in the neck.

And it's not just useless rubbish that has to be taken to the dump: coal! Real coal! Arr, there's (black) gold in thum thar hills! Apparently coal was transported from the Somerset coal mines up the aptly-named Somerset Coal Canal, onto the Kennet & Avon, up and along the Wilts & Berks by horse-drawn barges, going right up to the Thames. This may seem like a tremendous way to move it, but remember that at that time, coal was the "fuel of the future" as it burnt longer and hotter than wood. Transporting it by canal actually halved the cost of it! During loading and unloading, bits would occasionally be dropped overboard. Obviously, being a wharf, this would be a good area for finding coal. This bucketfull won't be going down the dump - it'll be going on the fire! Phil tells me that despite the mud, it burns perfectly well.

After an hour or two of litter-picking, Phil and I wandered down to have a look at Beryl, the Yellow Peril, our new toy: a middle-aged but still agile 6 ton digger. We only took delivery of it last week, and much to Bob's annoyance it was too wet to use it today. Phil was very interested in the bucket - probably wondering how much coal it was likely to dredge up!

After a much-deserved lunch break, we set off across the road, where a large willow had been blown over in the storms of last week. Just look at those black clouds gathering in the background! We were hoping to get this done before we got wet: Roy had already taken off the lower branches, and now we were all called up to deal with the fallen trunk, which had managed to get itself annoyingly hooked up:

Mind out the way, Vic - there's nothing edible over there!

Here's Malcy, supervising, and looking cold as the wind begins to rise....

....as do Graham, Jim and Vic, waiting to be called back in to take out the next section.

Bob flings a rope around the trunk...

...then Bob, Keith and Phil all have a good heave at it.

"Hmmmm," says Roy, "is that the best you can do? Get rid of some of this brush underneath it, please."

So Vic and Keith are sent it to battle with the scrub.

Ah, that's much better! Down comes the levitating trunk.

Graham rolls one of the trunk sections away uphill.

And here's the remains of one Salix Fragilis (that's Crack Willow to you and me) neatly sectioned and ready to be collected by the landowner for firewood.

Moving back to the Wharf side of the road, with thanks to Doug for the following photos, here is a clear view of the pipes running under the road.

And in the best tradition of the WilBerks, here's a bunch of blokes stood around watching! Whatever are they looking at?

Ah, mystery solved, they're watching Malcy, who has been shoved in the cut - don't worry Nady, we let him put his waders on first - with a long pokey pokey pole, and instructions to see if he can clear the obstructions that are preventing the water from coming through properly. It's our plan, once it's dry enough to use Beryl the Yellow Peril, to finish the partial dredging right up to the road, having established a pinch point at the far end of the wharf. This will leave us with water to the full width, if only to a depth of a couple of inches, from the wharf right up to the road. It is generally felt that this will make a huge improvement to the look of the area!

Malcy bravely shoves it forth.

Hmm, it doesn't seem to be going very far in. Suggestions, anyone?

Try twisting it, is the helpful comment from the bank. Malcy tries twisting it.

But to no avail! Oh well, perhaps a good downpour will flush it through? Mind you, we've had so much rain in the last couple of months that you do think that, if that were likely, it would have already happened.

Well, that's the first work party of the month over, hope you enjoyed it, and let's hope that we have a good and successful year.