It was 10 AM and four suited figures had gathered in the centre of a derelict site. An exchange of weapons, drugs and cash could have easily taken place.

“This is it,” observed Ian. “This, here, is all contaminated.” I looked around at the twisted trees, uneven land and piles of illegally dumped construction debris.

“There’s asbestos scattered all over the surface,” Paul said. “Some of it might even be buried underneath.”

“What does it look like?” I asked.

“Greyish. Flat. About half a centimetre thick.” Nuno picked up a piece of masonite. “Like this but with tufts of white fibre at the edge. The fibre is the asbestos. If you bend it over, it’ll stay bent. As long as the fibres are bunched, then it’s fairly low risk. You’re in trouble if the fibres are free — that’s when you can breathe it in.”

“Here’s a piece!” Paul called from atop a grassed mound. He brought it over to show me. “The problem is if we leave it here and there’s a dry summer, then the sheeting will dessicate and crumble, releasing the fibres.”

“There’s a primary school there,” Ian pointed south. “A skate park to the north. A school for disabled kids to the east. You can imagine the kind of press that will get.”

We wandered around the site and soon Ian, Nuno and Paul had each found at least three pieces of asbestos.

“Joan,” Paul warned. “We’re not leaving until we all find some asbestos.” The other two grinned at me.

“That’s not fair!” I said. “I haven’t developed my asbestos eyes yet.” But I took the challenge with good humour.

I focused on the ground for another five minutes as the three men discussed the remediation plan.

“I found a piece!” I shouted triumphantly. Proudly, I held it up between my fingers.

“That’s it,” Nuno agreed. “Congratulations!”

“I’m part of the now club, right?” I said. “This bit of asbestos is my membership card. I can put it in my wallet and wave it in front of all my friends!”

Our group of trained Occupational Health, Safety and Environment professionals all started giggling madly.