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There was a pile of gravel stuff waiting down there where I sometimes put the shoppe van if Mr Crofter is driving it next day. Big and huge it was.

The Piggies, coows and whoever have made such a mess of the ex-lawn, now renamed the muddy-bit, that a new layer of harder stuff needs to be laid. Otherwise one day I shall arrive and find The Crofter up to his oxters in the smelly stuff, bucket of mash still in his hand with the piggies shouting all sorts of obcenities at him through the thankfully intact fence. Imagine!

No, Best not.

Here it is;

It needs to be over there [pointing down the road just beyond 'the pile of gravel', round the corner, past the hoosey and near the piggie hutches. If that's possible]