Since the privacy bush was removed from the garden we have been working on getting the lawn to look like a lawn should, and not like a child has coloured in portions of our front garden with a felt tip that was quite low on ink.
It’s been an intensive six-weeks or so. We’ve reseeded the grass, we’ve provided it with nutrients and we’ve watered it. Every single day. That alone has been a mammoth undertaking. Because when you live in a terraced house, it’s not a case of running the house round the side of the house or anything. We have to take it through the back door and out of the front.
Which is a ball ache.
Firstly, no matter how you do it – you can be as careful or as reckless as you like – you will get furniture hooked in the hose. Somehow. It makes no sense. If you’ve managed to get the hose from the back to the front without somehow knocking over the ironing board and scaring the shit out of yourself in the process then just pinch yourself and wake up, because its a dream my friend. It just can’t happen.
And then when you do get it to the front and go to spray water everywhere it comes out in a crappy little trickle because there’s a kink in it all the way in the back garden. And you can’t just flick the hose because it’s running through the house and undoubtedly has an ironing board lying on it.
Plus you’re absolutely petrified that as you move it through the house the end will come off in some way and spray water everywhere. Or you’ll accidentally squeeze the trigger on the spray head and the same will happen. Carole was worried that the hose pipe would spring a leak, such as you may witness in a cartoon, while it was on its way through the front room. Which is less likely. But would not be unsurprising the way our luck seems to go.
And a ball ache.
And what do we have to show for it? A lush green lawn which covers all the bare patches nicely and looks incredibly healthy, requiring just a final touch up to bring it in line with the stones we found that mark out the flower bed?
No, do we bollocks.
It’s basically the same as it was before we seeded it. But every now and again there’s one long piece of grass. And the long grass is just taunting us from the middle of the bare earth, like a wispy hair on a bald man’s head.
I reckon we’ll get a decent lawn out of all this at about the same time as Carole’s original wool delivery gets here.