A spot of garden trouble
I have very little time for the likes of Alan Titchmarsh (although, like schoolboys everywhere I do find his name hilarious) but I would very much like to invite him to work his magic on my back garden.
I’m not saying that my garden is vastly overgrown but last month I took a walk through it and stumbled across Alec Guinness who tried to get me to help him build a railway bridge he was working on.
There was also this guy walking around holding the hand of a chimpanzee who must have beaten him in a game of cards, most probably strip poker as he was only wearing what looked like home-made speedos, anyway, he was a sore loser as he kept calling him cheater.
Anyway my garden is a real mess having last been cut five or six years ago... I make no excuses... being handy is just not my thing.
I suppose I should get a goat or something but I seem to remember that they attract dinosaurs (it’s true I saw it in this documentary called Jurassic Park.
Saying all that I have lately been embarrassed into tackling the untameable wilderness that is my back garden after the intervention of good old mother nature herself... and a conversation with my neighbours... a happy couple who are the complete antitheses of myself when it comes to green issues and spend every spare moment manicuring their resplendent lawns until they resemble something better groomed than Simon Cowell’s barnett.
Basically my fence blew over during the high winds we had a while back and they asked politely if I would be good enough to fix it.
I’m no stranger to embarrassment but I have to admit that while that nice couple sheepishly peered through the gap in my fence and looked on silently at the five foot high grass and riot of brambles - and I really mean a riot… one that would made the inner city trouble a couple of summers ago seem like a polite church fete - I felt like I do in my recurring dream where I win Britain’s Got Talent and step out to sing before the Queen and a worldwide audience of billions only to realise I forgot to dress and have nothing on but my Angry Bird pants which have more stains than a vest belonging to a tramp addicted to gravy.
So… does anyone know anyone with a couple of tons of tarmac going cheap?