Garden ornament gives me heavy sinking feeling

HALF-WAY through Lockdown Two! But oh, the tribulations of living in the Pennines where stone is king.

I inherited the damn thing, and I don’t know what to do with it.

It might be a valuable work of Victorian kitchen architecture, just like the one we had in our Railway Terrace scullery when I was a kid.

But who wants a shallow stone sink that’s too heavy to lift? By this septuagenarian, anyway. It was full of earth and the retreating owner used it to grow cacti and other plants, without much success. I did put in some daffodil bulbs, but now I want rid.

Put it on Facebook, or eBay, advises my brother John, and sell it. I don’t know how to and, for that matter, neither does he. Some adviser.

I’ve toppled the monster from the top of my shed and it sits upside-down, resting at an angle on the flags.

I could probably use the loose stone somewhere on the allotment.

Sledgehammer have I none, but I do have a lump hammer that should suffice.

Not the kind of tool I get to play with very often. I’m only so-so with DIY – more the kind of person who earns the money and then pays somebody who knows what they’re doing to do the job.

It’s not really a big operation and, in any case, where do you get a demolition contractor in the middle of a pandemic?

I might turn to the Old White Bear Old Boys’ Club, in the hope of finding a lad who will help me out of my dilemma.

The rules ought to allow a brief working visit for this purpose.

I’ll let you know how I get on. Meanwhile, a stony silence.