A Losing Battle

Did came round today to do some work, and his visit coincided with that of the Green Thumb woman who came to give me a quote for reviving the lawn. As she stood there with her hands on her hips kindly berating me for cutting the grass much too close in this hot weather, I saw him slink away behind his Landrover, for he was the perpetrator of the lawn murder when I was away on holiday. What possessed him to scrape it practically to the very roots? After she'd gone he told me he'd sat in my garden and had his lunch, and put the sprinkler on for a while, though he didn't mention the close shave. I couldn't be cross with him. He's not exactly Monty Don. As he stood scratching and rearranging his genitals as usual while telling me how much he hated the heat, clothes so filthy I don't know why he doesn't smell, he mentioned his little ride-on mower which easily fits through my gate and which he's getting rid of when he finds a replacement. Well, we made a deal there and then. A ride-on mower again! The hours I'll save cutting that bloody lawn, heaving myself up and down the slope. As these things happen, the man who takes aerial photos of houses turned up with a new one of mine, and I had to buy it. Pity both myself and the neighbours had the washing hanging out at the time it was snapped. And who is that old bag stooping ungracefully behind the summerhouse?

I went mad with the power hose today, cleaning the front door area and both rear terraces. Tomorrow I'll do the summerhouse stand as well. It's one of my favourite jobs, transforming the paving stones by removing the winter grime. Everything is gleaming again, and the baking sun dried it off quickly, including my sodden jeans. Yesterday in a fit of rage I removed the branches of the dead arbutus, and hacked great chunks off shrubs that had got too big for their boots and were overshadowing their less thuggish neighbours.This inappropriate pruning will probably come back to bite me, but it had to be done. I took huge piles of it to the council tip, and my rage subsided. Did's job today was to strim the nettles in the field and spray the life out of everything else that shouldn't be there. Then he removed the trunk of the dead arbutus and that of a rowan I cut down last year.

Living in the middle of the countryside does have its down side, though it's a mere blip compared to the bonuses. The wilderness continually tries to encroach and engulf, and you have to work hard to keep it at bay. It sneaks in when you turn away, and there it is, curling and weaving around your precious shrubs, briars, bindweed, nettles, that sticky creeper and all manner of evil growth. Its fecundity is almost appalling to witness, but catch it early and you're in with a chance.