We were down in Enda's Corner tidying it up in advance of a film-crew and the spring of my current Lidl-secateurs went sproinnng into the vegetation. I didn't see it go, it just wasn't there, so finding it was to be a needle in a haystack affair. I didn't even start! I make the effort to retrieve nails and fence-staples in such circumstances because they can come back to bite you; but a wee bitty spring, not so much. And even if painted yellow and red, it would still be invisible to my rheumy olde eyes.
The machete / 'sward-sword' shown L is one of three which we inherited from The Beloved's Uncle Jim. He had commissioned them from the local smith in Kano, Nigeria and carried back to Ireland many years before 9/11 and the subsequent security theatre. We lent one of them to 'someone' years ago, never to be seen again, but I use the remaining pair on the reg'lar for brambles, bushes and briars. I periodically touch them up lethal sharp with an angle grinder. Indeed, two weeks ago I was trimming back the veg at the start of the lane beyond Harry's gate . It was a project, so I left the sword in place when distracted from the task by counting sheep, making tea and collecting the post. A week later, the goddam tool was not in its accustomed place, so I spent some time over about three days hunting and rehunting for it near Harry's gate and in all the usual places. It should have been here: can you spot the difference?
The old wooden chair has become a rack for small tools used in and about the polytunnel. So of course I checked there but only saw the handle of one of our pair of swords [as R above]. On the 19th time of looking, I knelt down to check behind the chair and under the table again. From that perspective, the blades of two swords were readily apparent . . . Bob the Autoconfused having covered the second handle with an inverted paper coffee cup. Having a place for everything and everything in its place is a necessary but not sufficient solution to the lost tools problem.
StopPress: that sproinged spring down in Enda's Corner? After my triumph with the once and future sword in the chair, I wondered how hard it could be to find that spring. Not that hard, it turned out: I got down on my knees to part the grass and saw it within 5 minutes. It was easier than expected because the spring was not the feeble / invisible helical wire I had in m'head, but a robust sausage as thick as a pencil. I have repatriated and threaded it back on the secateurs with anti-sproing spring string [as R].
Don't give up ♬ ♪ ♫ ♩
You know it's never been easy
Don't give up
'Cause I believe there's a place
There's a place where springs belong
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