Mary, Mary quite contrary.

The men of the Parks and Gardens Department of the City Council loved their job.

This was on many levels.

They enjoyed the creativity which was demanded of the seasonal work. It was hard,outdoor work but it was, after all outdoors. They were their own masters and timekeepers because only they could dictate the duration of a planting, a trimming, a clearing, a landscaping and a pruning in spite of the best efforts of Management to interfere with schedules, deadlines and budgets.

In the endless battle with Management it was always the case of bullshit baffles brains and bullshit was invariably victorious. Take the number one practice of the Parks and Gardens Men. Sitting in their vans was great. Warm, dry, out of the wind and fine penetrating drizzle. This was frowned upon by the Supervisors who relished the prospect of catching them at it. The explanations given were beyond reproach. It involved a rather technical description of the rate of degrading of mulch at the prevailing temperature of the day or how the sap had to settle down before an incision could be made or the blades of grass had to be perfectly aligned for the mowers to work properly. The background of the Management was not horticultural.

They usually ended up in the Grounds Department after some form of indiscretion in another sector of Local Authority operations. It was a definite relegation although they would try to argue it was more of a sideways move in a career path that was actually stalling and backtracking.

The arrival of a task force shook the very roots of the organisation. It  was a trouble shooting, accountancy trained initiative of outsiders specifically employed to slash the budgets of the Council in order to meet the demands of Central Government for austerity in recessionary times. The men of the Parks and Gardens Department were summoned to a meeting early one morning to be told that their services would only be required until the end of the month.

This was devastating news to the workforce. They trudged out to undertake the days tasks which revolved around the planting of the bulbs for the coming season.

Whilst a city-wide activity the focus and a matter of Civic Pride was the annual display on the large traffic island which marked the approach to the town. The island or roundabout sat at the bottom of the hill on a spur from the by-pass.

From the higher ground there was a clear view down and over the often award winning floral show. It was on a different theme every year whether the anniversary of an event in the history of the City or to celebrate organisations and notable citizens.

The men, downhearted in the face of redundancy , toiled ceaselessly in the tilling, fertilising and marking out of the oversized flowerbed. The bulbs were carefully offered up to the prepared ground. The spirits and humour of the men were percieved to visibly and tangibly improve with the forming of the rows for the eventual and simultaneous emergence of daffodils, tulips and crocuses in the following Spring.

As the last of the precious flower bulbs was put to bed the men, in a huddle that only a true band of brothers could pull off , made a pact that whatever their individual circumstances at the time they would all return to the roundabout at the first full bloom of their endeavours.

The ensuing months were difficult for one and all. Jobs of any kind were sparse in a faltering local economy. Green fingers became browned with engine oil, red and raw from manual production line processes, wizened from non-activity, tainted where the grey economy had to be resorted to from necessity through poverty.

Nevertheless, to a man they stood at the top of the hill overlooking the site of their labours. It was some minutes after the April sun had coaxed the flower heads to open up in a glorious bloom of colour and textures. Forgetting for a moment their collective anxieties of debt and insecurity they roared with righteous laughter. The attention to planting had created a wonderful sprawling message of profanity, spelled out in yellow, red, black and a riotous rainbow of shades against the Council and their callous attitude towards a loyal and dedicated workforce.