Well, although I have a Master’s Degree in procrastination, I simply had to do something about the ivy/neighbour prob and decided to start small and work outward, so the task didn’t seem quite so overwhelming. Armed with the rusty secateurs and equally rusty hedge-lopping shears I found in the cellar, I climbed on to a wooden ladder I found quietly disintigrating in one corner of the Nightmare, and set-to with a will.
After half-an-hour, I’d found an abandoned, sealed bag of bark chips, a likewise forgotten tit’s nest, and the top of the garden wall. Hurrah! I also found some of the ‘vigorous growing thing’ hidden by the ivy curtain – familiar from previous overgrown courtyards. It’s evergreen, and is the sort of thing borough councils plant in supermarket islands and roundabouts – it has yellow flowers, and continually produces berries. I’ve encountered it all over Edinburgh, so if anyone knows what it’s called …
the growing thing
Anyway, I was soon crushed by my next-door-neighbour, who came out at the sound of activity, and pointed out that if I’d cut through the roots of the ivy, it would die and fall into her garden. She made it politely plain that this was inconvenient – I peeked at her tidy, well-manicured court whilst up on the wobbly ladder, so could understand this pov.
As I suspected, this is just the tip of a rather large, unruly iceberg; the next day my shoulders and arms had entirely frozen up from the violence needed to make my rusty tools work. I realised that money would have to be spent to replace them and prevent my early admission to the Royal Infirmary in the ‘dead spider’ position.
My victory over this small portion of the ivy is beginning to look distinctly Pyrrhic …
Cru x
~*All images and text ©P.L. Sharp 2008*~
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