I may have been rolling in wet grass
That right there is roughly the sound my brain makes when it explodes.
On Saturday we all went to somewhere called Ashridge for the afternoon.
Oh.
My.
Word.
What are you insinuating?
I like gardening. Unfortunately They don’t seem to do a great deal of it, although I have heard mutterings about “when I used to be able to garden, before the flipping dog” from time to time. So it’s probably a good thing I like gardening, because it means I can help. Which is nice. Always good to put a little bit back.
I try to do a little bit of helping most times I go outside. There are always leaves to clear up, stones that need moving (and occasionally disappearing), and frequent side-projects. A recent success was the removal of a whole line of bamboo canes from around the pond. I only had to uproot six or seven, and chew off another pawful before they got the message and removed the rest for me. Everything is now much more attractive with some large flower pots weighting down the net. And it sags a bit more, so I can drink out of the pond again. Result.
My lead
I am coming to understand that The Lead is a very important item, and carries with it a host of complex social and behavioural obligations. My early experiences were decidedly mixed, but They have persevered, and I think I’m getting it now. One can say a lot with a lead.