Oh dear. The Furlong garden has gone wild. Not only have the plants grown huge so that visitors need scythes and pangas to get into the garden gate, but the Virginia creeper on the wall and the ivy at the gate are consuming the place. In the old days, Mr Furlong would have shinned up a ladder and given the Virginia creeper a haircut and I would have yanked the Ivy out of the Yorkshire stone wall on our boundary. Something has happened to our energy levels in directly opposite rates to theirs.
The Ivy has thick trunks that disappear into secret holes between the rocks and fingers of Virginia creeper are feeling their way into our roof gutters. The situation is really serious. We have to do something fast.
We might need professional help.
Oh – Mr F just suggested we go out and attend to Virginia creeper – so we have. We find it’s mostly Ivy. Hard work – but worth it. Good work to both us old people, him up the ladder and me holding it. What me holding it could have done in an emergency, beats me. But we did it together – and that’s the point.
Not thinking of doing it for a living though….
And our birds are really cross with us poor things.