Just imagine the scenario: a warm hot sunny day and a next-door neighbour fleetingly gives reference to their upcoming holiday to some exotic far flung destination and how the plants are going to need watering. I don't mind. Wave the hosepipe around in the general direction of the shrubbery and the ecosystem will sort things out for it's self. Pretty simple one would think. I actually felt quite bad in accepting the 10 pound note forced upon me despite my continual protesting that payment was completely unnecessary, let alone ridiculous to pay me for dowsing a few stationary lifeforms with H2O.
But not even one week in to my garden tending venture and I'm pondering between two possible options to explain the recent turn of events (against my favor in case you hadn't realised where this one was headed) :
a) I must have been transformed into a complete and utter disaster area as of last Monday and become infected with the worst luck ever to have been bestowed onto one person in such a limited time scale
or b) there's more to this gardening lark than meets the eye.
Now for those of you who know me fairly well it wouldn't be overly big headed of me to say that it's most likely not to be option a, as I have, thankfully, been blessed with a fair share of common sense and academic talent. But as the tomato plants continue to wither regardless of the torrents of water lavished upon them daily I begin to doubt my talents slightly. As the handle breaks of the watering can, which I wasn't aware was physically detachable in the first place without extreme force, I start to wonder if maybe I'm turning into a bit of a klutz. When the hosepipe springs about 8 leaks simultaneously, thus drenching my new shoes on their first excursion from outside my four walls (admittedly only four good old British pounds from primark but still not a nice feeling to be tipping them upside down and watching the new Niagara Falls emerge which mostly ends up over most of me to precise) the thought does cross my mind that something's out to get me. When trying to mend said hosepipe with waterproof taping and the reel of tape snaps in my hands.. what did I do to deserve this? When I go in the house to pick up the post from inside the front door I find the house has been invaded by an army of ants. Quite literally taking the place over - practically non negotiable in fact. 24 hours and some ant powder later I'm now staring at an ant graveyard. Admittedly better than an ant hostel but still not a sight you wish to return home too.
So as I cautiously make my way over to the house today I wonder what delights it has in store for me today. And without exaggeration or any form of imagination i find the garden gate has blown off it's hinges. Maybe I should post that 10 pound note back through the door....