Dessie has the tailgate up and is pushing the sheets down with a shovel, and half of them break as they go. 'Old roof,' he says when he sees you. 'It is inert. It is not doing anything down there.' Further along the bank someone has heaped cut bracken over a stretch that looks like it was filled in a while ago, and up at the top of the track a torch is swinging down towards you.
The Grey Sheets