Percolation Test In Brockenhurst May 2026

The rain over the New Forest had a memory, and it remembered every hole Tom dug. He leaned on his shovel, the collar of his waxed jacket turned up against a persistent drizzle. Before him, the land sloped gently toward a copse of ancient oaks, their roots like arthritic fingers clutching the soggy ground. This was Plot Seven, the last undeveloped corner of the old Meadon Farm, and the dream of a three-bedroom eco-cottage died or lived by what happened in the next six hours.

At 15 minutes, the level had dropped 5mm. Pathetic. percolation test in brockenhurst

By the second hour, the drizzle turned into a proper downpour. Tom hunched under a golf umbrella, feeling like a fool. The hole was now half-full of rainwater, contaminating the test. He had to start over. He bailed it out with a saucepan he’d stolen from the kitchen, his back screaming. He felt a surge of pure, irrational rage at the ground, at Brockenhurst, at the romantic fantasy of rural life that had sold him this lie. The rain over the New Forest had a