Observations about gravel...

Gravel. It's not overly exciting, is it? I mean, it serves its purpose well enough - covering a drive or path, sprinkling on cereal or porridge for trolls, burying grandma alive in - but generally, you wouldn't consider gravel a hot topic of conversation. Not so at my home. "Come and visit us!" My parents encourage me. It is, after all, summer. And I was in between houses for a few days, so it made sense.
 "We're getting new gravel!" I'm told. Right, I think, good for you. And I expect this to be, largely, the end of the subject. Perhaps I will be occasionally reminded the gravel arrives on Friday, or asked if I'm still free to help spread it or so on. But that should be it.
No such luck. Gravel appears to be the happening thing. Yesterday, we prepared for the gravel's arrival. We cleared the drive of weeds and ridges where the old gravel had compacted, we swept away leaves and twigs, we set out balloons and hung streamers. My grandparents called. I heard dad on the phone to them, "Yes. 8 tonnes. Oh yes, about three-quarters of an inch. Yes, about an inch-and-a-half covering"
 The gravel arrived this morning, 9:30 sharp. We'd been out since 8, preparing for the arrival. My father talked to no less than TWO people about the gravel before 10. Admittedly, one was our neighbour who noticed our preparations, and the other was the man delivering the gravel. Then we spread the gravel. The gravel said nothing. It didn't even touch the jelly we prepared for it, just sat around expecting us to do all the work. I was not allowed to set fire to it.
 But, it's over now! No longer must I hear about the topic of gravel in great length! No more will I bore my girlfriend with technical details and specifications about gravel! No more must I blog about such subjects! I'm free!