Clearance

A trip to Castlecary to get, yes, CEDEC Silver path grit as the recent downpour had sluiced some of it away. The path actually needs a run off, but for the moment I’ll just rectify the damage.
Then, a bit of a set to up the plot over the back. Bloody sycamores. They grow like weeds and are covered in aphids and black spot. And worst of all, people just let them. Five or ten years later and you’ve a line of enormously high trees that are too big to tackle and block the sun from the gardens. It’s quite absurd. There’s one two doors along the daft old biddy allowed to grow before shuffling off. And an even bigger one further along everyone detests. So, given the current vacant possession of the famous plot, I was in there with my saw. No prisoners.
Except I was espied by one of the new neighbours. What does she do? She calls the police! Apparently she tells them that there was a “homeless looking man” making a shelter. Haw, haw. So then they come to the door to talk to the SK correctly assuming the hobo had gained access from our garden. Do you know this man, they ask. Oh yes, she says, I’m married to him. He’s just tidying up some overhanging branches, she sweetly says and off they go, chuckling. Phew.