I'm a little late with my literary efforts today.

I have been having a busy day between one thing and another.

The main part of the afternoon was taken up with a little light hedge cutting.

Now there are those of you who will conjure up images of a genteel old gentleman lightly clipping his topiary aiming for that nice perfect cut.

The reality is somewhat different.  Mine isn't one of those neatly manicured straight edged box hedges.  No.  Mine is more of a PrepareToDieYouMotherfuckingHedge type of hedge.  My tools are less of the gentle clippers and more of the slashhook, chainsaw and saw variety.  On occasions I have been known to use a flame-thrower.

The problem is that the hedge is 99% brambles, with a soupçon of nettles and other stingy, thorny things.  It's about ten foot high and even with power tools I can't react the top, so I wait for gravity to take over and when the whole hedge starts to lean, then that's when I attack.  I can't leave it as when it leans, it blocks my view when I'm trying to drive out of the lane onto the road.

It's done now.  I even tidied up most of the cuttings which took about six barrow-loads of vicious stuff that did its damndest to cling to everything I passed.  Not bad for about twenty feet of hedge?

I'm fucked and sweating now.  The sweat is pouring off me and is nicely diluting the blood from the countless tears, rips, scratches and cuts in my arms [and I was wearing industrial strength leather gauntlets].

Time for a pint, methinks…….