Christ. That was a hack and a half. What was meant to be a simple pruning of the wisteria somehow ended up in a four-hour garden tidy-up. Shit the bed.
I had half an eye on Surrey against Hampshire back at the Oval in the Championship. Tea was about to be taken when I decided to nip outside for a very quick and brief garden tidy-up.
Once I had braved the heights of the scaffolding to prune the wisteria, I was on a roll. I remembered I had another task: hack away at the shitty bamboo slats outside the fence. This will be piss easy, right?
Wrong. Our garden designer wants to see what lies between the slats and the fence itself. Here be dragons etc. Actually it was ivy, BASTARD ivy. I’ve left it there so the garden designer can get triggered and talk us into buying some new fences.
Gardening gloves were needed. I only realised this after I pricked myself half a dozen times with some particularly fiendish thorns on a rose bush. I wouldn’t mind so much but the stupid rose bush never actually flowers. A rose bush with thorns only is a very vindictive species.
I then had the brainwave for a shed reorganisation. Are Surrey still taking the tea interval? I was disturbed by an almighty squeal underneath the garden shed. Daisy soon emerged with a dead bird, right between her jaws. God girl, bad girl.
It was a job well done. I headed back indoors and what do you know? Surrey were in the field making hard work of chasing down a Hampshire score. There were still five overs left to play. It was almost 7 pm. Gardening is not for the faint-minded.