The elephant in the garden

The Kipper's oil tank was still sat under the garage floor when I bought her in 2002. Access via trap door. Not quite totally illegal, but rather frowned upon these days. There's been a few expensive accidents in the vicinity the past couple of years, due to old, disintegrating oil tanks. After the third local disaster I couldn't sleep anymore. A burst oil tank would ruin me ... not to mention the neighbourhood.

I arranged to have it replaced. But, they wouldn't let me tuck it back down under the garage floor, despite the fact it's top o' the line, double wall fiberglass construction, guaranteed 30 years. No. It had to be perched out in the open on a cement slab, ALL ACCESS. Tsk.

So there it is, perched in the back corner of the garden in all it's glory. Earthquake strapped to the slab. I asked the Fire Marshall if I could set the Virginia Creeper on it. He said, "No, no, no."

I built a lovely little pea gravel path through the bed to the tank today, so's the oil man doesn't have to sully his boots in the mud when he comes to fill the tank. And the pot of bergamot at the end of the path will cheer him with its overwhelming fragrance as he goes about his work.

(I wonder if the Fire Marshall is a bead curtain enthusiast.)