Oof!

[desperance]

I am becoming a horny-handed son of toil, and I shall be big and bulgy before I'm done. Indeed, I had better be big and bulgy - with musckles in places where we didn't even know I had places - because I will damn well have earned it.

I uncovered more archaeology concrete footings, which I have dug under and levered out and cast aside, and oof. Heavy are the feet of great works, even when shattered into pieces. Obviously we have no idea what stood here before they laid grass over the ruins thereof, but it was big enough to need mighty feet.

Now that I know they are removable, though, I'll go back and work on removing t'other one. And then finish the dig-over. I have an increasingly small (wow, that sounds weird: a decreasingly large, should I say?) island of undug turf, and nibbling away at it does feel a little like sawing off the branch you're sitting on. I have no notion where I shall stand for the last few spadefuls, or on what fulcrum I shall pivot said spade. Nevertheless, I shall move the earth.