You can tell the Spring Bank Holiday is approaching. You can't get parked within a five mile radius of Homebase, every guy you pass in the street has a growbag over his shoulder, you are awoken every morning by some guy trimming his hedge and kept awake every night by him cutting paving slabs.
Yes, it's that time of year again when we start to feel guilty over our long neglected gardens and make that weak and short lived commitment to do something about it. We pull out the worst offending weeds, take some wire wool to the grotty barbeque and then buy enough beer in the hope that folk will be too sloshed to notice the state of the garden.
And so we don our gardening gloves (that we buy fresh every year because we can never find the pristine pair we bought last year) and smile sheepishly at our neighbour over the fence - the one who has been griping none-too-quietly about the weeds coming through from our garden - ready to tackle the triffid that has taken over one side of the garage, or the mass of dandelions and field buttercups that used to be a lawn.
After several bank holiday weekends (they bunch them together in April and May to really give you good swing of the scythe) we seem no further forward and resort to the slash and burn teqnique which is quickly followed by swearing, getting nettled, nearly poisoning the dog with innappropriate use of weedkiller and then tossing three tonnes of gravel on it in the hope it won't grow back.
And all because Charlie Dimmock wasn't free and we were too scared that Irish bloke would put a great metal fin in the middle of the drive and make us pretend to like it.
I can poke fun all I like. I am no different.
We have had an overgrown ivy that is determined to consume our shed. It had grown thicker and thicker which each passing year and no matter how fast we hack it down it seems to grow back like Kirsten Dunst's hair in Interview With a Vampire.
I was determined this year would be different.
Rather than cut it back to something manageable, I decided I was going to have the whole plant ripped out at the roots never to return. I was fully aware that I may have to demolish the shed in order to achieve this but, at this point, I am expecting heavy casualties.
Starting on the farside, where it overhangs the pavement and tries to snatch passers by off the street like Audrey II, I discovered a bird's nest and all work had to come to a halt. As desperate as I was to attack the plant, I wasn't going to destroy some poor bird's house while their eggs were in it.
So I moved to the other side and was there on a ladder happily hacking off great chunks and throwing them in our newly aquired brown bin when I saw something furry in the undergrowth. being a country lass I was not frightened by the prospect of something climbing up among the thick branches and gasping its last. I had convinced myself it was a rat or a weasel when it turned it's head and looked at me.
My three year old, playing happily in the yard, was aware that mummy had gone still as stone and was holding her breath. The beastie was alive and living in my ivy. Upon further inspection I discovered it was a cat, stray or feral I have yet to determine, but the bloody creature has taken up residence on my shed roof. I shook a branch and demanded it vacate the premises. A second, smaller head popped up in front of it and started to whimper.
The cat had crawled in there to have her kittens.
I am now left with the dilemna of having a mother cat and three kittens (at last count) living on my shed roof, a husband who has an allergy, a three year old who I wouldn't want to expose to a feral cat and a garden that still looks like the Heart of Darkness. There is no chance of adopting them. I wouldn't chose to have a cat, so I'm sure as hell not getting four by default. We have contacted the RSPCA who have suggested leaving her along until the kittens are bigger and she may move them to a more suitable home.
In the meantime, we are checking on our guests morning and night to ensure they're doing alright and keeping the backdoor shut in case they make a break for the house.
I blame the ivy, I think it's using the cats as human shield (well - feline shield)
In the meantime, we are checking on our guests morning and night to ensure they're doing alright and keeping the backdoor shut in case they make a break for the house.
I blame the ivy, I think it's using the cats as human shield (well - feline shield)
