Knuckledust   Leave a comment

You weren’t there, man.

Sunday was genocide day. Not by me; happily, my friend came over and did a rather thorough job of defoliating my jungle surrounds, whilst I lorded it over my minion.

Actually I did hoovering, painting, filling and sanding to further prepare the bedroom, but despite feeling that I made pretty good progress, nobody could claim I was the hardest working person here. Notes to self: Careful opening paint tins with scrapers; they can slip and knock lumps out of your thumb-joint. And sanding skirting-boards can put your finger-joints rather close to rough floorboards.

But my discomfort was nothing compared to my friend’s; grass or weed-cuttings didn’t seem to do him any good, making him go very red and blotchy. So he wound up wearing a jumper to do hard work on a hot day. Toasty.
Still, he was not dissuaded; weeds were pulled, grass was strimmed and mowed, rubbish was unearthed and hauled out of the way, rare species went extinct and pygmy tribes were forcibly re-homed. He certainly worked hard for his money, and probably helped enthuse me to get up and get on with my jobs; you feel guilty being lazy when you’ve got somebody doing such hard work.

All in all, between the loss of plant-life and the electricity required in its extermination, and associated habitat destruction, a veritable ecological disaster. But it does look a lot more like a garden now. Just need to haul out all the rubbish on the tractor and add a gate and it’ll be sorted, bar re-building the burnt-out shed.

We did wonder which of us had wound up better off at the end of the day: me, for the increased value of the house from the day’s efforts, or him for being paid.


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