There’s a certain kind of masochist who considers that gardening is a fun pursuit. Well this blogger considers that pastime was conceived somewhere in the lower circles of hell.
Bearing in mind that it was a hot bank holiday weekend for a change, gardening was not my idea of fun.
Let me explain.
I had to mow a lawn which hadn’t been shown the attendance of a cutting implement for a while. Consequentially mowing with a “Less bovver with a hover” appliance, that was sadly lacking in size and power, brought me out in a hate rage of any garden machinery of an orange colour. I honestly believe it would have been easier to have used a scythe and a vacuum cleaner.
Then there was the strimmer for getting into those parts that the orange machinery fails to do. Bloody thing seemed to eat plastic cord like there was no tomorrow.
The hedge needed cutting. The easy bit is slashing away with the hedge trimmer. The backbreaking part is picking up the detritus that you’ve just hacked off.
Then of course you’ve now accumulated a mountain of green rubbish. And this means a trip to the municipal waste facility (The tip). Queue hell.
Not withstanding that, there is the garden furniture to repair. So off to that well known rip off merchant with the web address starting with DIY. You only want one bracket, but oh no, you have to buy a packet of three.
Now your’e all thinking well done Mr FE you’ve now got an outstanding garden. You’re wrong. It’s the errant son’s garden (Errant cos he lives up north), that I’ve slaved over.
It all started a few months ago when he phoned and invited us up for the bank holiday. (I should have refused outright.) I was expecting to be pampered, wined and dined at expensive restaurants, and generally made to feel special. I should have known better. My daughters put Machiavelli into the third division.
In actual fact it was an interesting experience and brought me back in time to my youth. I knew nothing about gardening or DIY. So my son is not to blame in the slightest. (I’ll outline his faults in a future post).
Probably best to have astroturf and practice celibacy.
*I expect a comment Christopher*
