Potato Day was not the only excitement last weekend as Jim’s man spent the whole of Saturday taking down the Hawthorn hedge at the end of the tennis court. It is part of the The Old Man’s attempt to re-take the tennis court surrounds, which used to be grassy verges and the occasional Cotoneaster or apple tree. Dean ‘literally’ (as the kids would say) worked from dawn to dusk, sawing and burning his was through decades of prickles. A sort of ‘Chain Saw Ridge’, but with no blood and guts, and refreshments provided by Mrs B. Charbonnel hot chocolate and – later – English Breakfast tea and biscotti. Are we Middle class?
Elsewhere more timber fell as I started to trim the infamous Cotoneaster out the front of the house. Mrs B told me to spend twenty minutes on it then come in for tea. She is always looking out for my physical welfare. But once you start, it is just so difficult to stop, and in the absence of any off-spring to offer assistance or even do it themselves, I cut it down to size in a little under 90 minutes. I was aching the next day, from all the clambering around in the tree, but it had been a good job jobbed.
This weekend has been wet and dismal on so many fronts, and the only thing being chopped down was The OM who took a midnight fall on the flagstone floor of the kitchen and is currently residing in hospital looking bruised and bloodied. He has the sort of injuries Mrs B was concerned I might sustain on the Cotoneaster, but hopefully he will be fine and I suspect it will not stop him directing operations for the final assault on the long side of the tennis court. Brother H has gone in to see him today.
I will go tomorrow to receive my orders if he has not been discharged by then.
