Gardening

You positively couldn’t imagine a more stereotypical Sunday in the garden today. Having done 87% of the house renovations, I turned my keen (yare right!) eye to our shabby, yet potentially reasonably sized garden. Apart from the strange Swedish style cabin/ shed thing that hogs all the space, the garden has your typical mundane ‘old’ man low maintenance shrub affair stuff, with some non-descript non-producing tree plant thingy’s.

With the idea of maximising re-saleability, as we still have aspirations of turning a pretty penny in lieu of property development. Small or non-existent flower/ growing border beds are good because they give a potential buyer a veritable vegetation-able-ly clean slate from which that can image their imagine-in-edibles (yes I did just type that!) can go. (Exhale)

 

My daughter was kind enough to want to help and/or hinder-now two and a half, potty training is something of a bit hit and piss. (ha-ha, see what I did there) Having peed three times out of her nappy on the wood floor I laid myself not six months score ago. She also did a lovely big poo in the downstairs lav(oh yes, the joys of parenting!). So pluses and minuses, she just about broke even.

The Rabbits also did their part digging up the plant beds, though I somewhat suspect they were actually trying to re-enact the great escape, tunnelling up under the rabbit run I erected for them.

Four hours later, and a lot of false wee-wee alarms, half the garden is now done and no-heat stroke. And to top off my manly graft, there’s nothing like a manicure and hand massage from my beautiful and brilliant wife.

Pass me an ice filled glass of Swedish Kiwi and Blackcurrant Cider, and my day is done!

Ok, Fine! I’ll return my man-card tomorrow… L