The Plinth

Many years ago a plinth and font were rescued from builders when demolishing a local victorian church. A neighbour of mine was able to obtain it and it stood resplendent in his garden filled with geraniums. It was always special to us because my wife's father had been christened in this font.
It was sold on at some time and the neighbour died. The house went through many different owners until now when the present occupants decided to remove a patch of bamboo at the end of last week and the plinth which must have been too heavy to move when the font was sold, appeared in the undergrowth, a bit worse for wear but otherwise in reasonable shape having remained part buried for over 30 years. Again it was destined for the skip.
My intervention was met with "If you can move it you can keep it" (I seem to get a lot of stuff that way!)
I did fine moving it on an engineering trolley (only two fingers lost the skin on the knuckles) out from the garden one side of me and into the garden the other side of me, and up to the gate linking our gardens. It was there the concrete stopped and the grass intervened.
Old wooden boards were laid on the grass and screwed together and the perilous journey over the next 20ft took me to my bit of concrete and a quick circuit round the fruit tree and onto its present position resulted in my todays Blip. We haven't got the font but I suppose the resin half size equivalent will have to do.
A nice memory of my father in law who died on 31 May 2011 and a lovely feature for the garden.
Only those who have ever tried to move a lump of cylindrical stone 300 yards will have any idea of what a civil engineering marathon this was.