Relic

In front of the Rectory at Swanvale Halt is a little strip of land no more than a couple of feet wide between the metalled surface of the roadway and my wall; it isn't part of the Rectory property. My neighbours tend to park there as the road is slightly wider at that point and it makes it a little less likely that their vehicles are going to be struck by the removal lorries and supermarket delivery vans that come pelting down the hill. This unfortunately means that the ground is being worn away by grinding tyres, and is at least six inches lower than it was when I arrived here. There will be a point at which the utility of avoiding the downhill traffic moves into negative territory against the inconvenience of the preposterous angle the parked cars will reach. In fact, you might be able to plot a graph.

Anyway. I could argue that the brambles, self-seeded sycamores, and green alkanet that periodically invade this small space are nothing to do with me, but I like to try to keep the vegetation under control. It was while doing this yesterday that I spotted a little disc of metal on the ground. Despite the blobs of corrosion, it was easily identifiable as a 1936 penny. A little dip in some vinegar cleared off all but the most fixed bits of decomposition.

How long had the coin been there? There were 154 million pennies struck in 1936, a total only exceeded in 1962, 1966 and 1967, so they were hardly uncommon. It might have been dropped even after decimalisation in 1971, but it's more likely that it was hidden since long before then, waiting for the sandy earth here to be disturbed and washed away and then for me to find.