Two Feet of Concrete and a Surprise Visitor
Right then, let me start with a confession. When I was younger, I used to think the hard part of any job was the bit you could see. The digging, the lifting, the sawing. It's only with a few more years under my belt (sixty of them, as you'll know if you've read my little bio) that I've learned the hard part is always the bit somebody else did thirty years ago, buried where you can't see it, and gone by the time you need to ask them what on earth they were thinking. That's more or less how my week went. And it started, as most of my weeks seem to now, with ivy. The Ivy Had Its Say If you've been following along, you'll know I've been cutting the ivy back at the bottom of the garden to make room for the new big shed. Well, this week the last piece of the puzzle had to go: the root ball. The very spot where the whole lot began, decades back, turns out to be sitting slap bang where the shed is going. I did have a good look at it, and a little thin...
