Tuesday, 9 September 2008


Let me say first thing, 'Happy Birthday Gail for yesterday!' and sorry that I forgot. All I will add is that DQ cake is the kind of cake that even I like, (ie contains no actual cake:)

Didn't sleep worth a damn last night, I was outside at 2.30, sitting on the front steps, plotting my revenge on ... well, anyone who had annoyed me, which at that time, and with no sleep, was just the man next door who goes out and smokes on his balcony so that it drifts onto mine, or at the back of the house, where it creeps into my kitchen.
Sadly, my only legally available revenge is Sleepy, who will come over at some point and outsmoke him. And that will smoke him out. There is a seat already there for her.
Ha!! Be afraid, be very afraid next-door-neighbour!

Sitting on the doorstep at 2.30 was cold because there was a mighty wind blowing out there, and it had nothing to do with comestibles consumed earlier, but the wind calmed me, blew away my irritations and I was able to go back to bed and eventually sleep.

Our house is on a corner, a crossroads; and at right angles to the man who waters the pavement and grass verges, is the man who gardens. He gardens everything. I'm not even 100% convinced that he IS a man, I'm pretty sure he's German and I've met plenty of German women who look like him. He must be some kind of foreign anyway, a Canadian would never have quite such a huge maple leaf flag flying from their property.

At first, I thought he was an actual gardener, he seemed to be all around the place watering and weeding. He's highly tanned, in a reddish kind of way and his hair is the colour of straw. He always wears a vest, which is how I can see that he has boobage.
Then, I realised that although he was ubiquitous in his horticultural endeavours, more often, he was just toiling away in the gardens of the one house.

Now, he has gardened a verge too far and I am waiting to see if anything descends upon him from the Council. He has dug up parts of two of the grass verges in front of his house, partitioned them off with stone edging and has planted flowers.

In many ways, I can admire his obsession, until it impinges on me of course, I can't help being fascinated by it.
But it is mental.


Sleepy said...

I am practising with Disc Bleu for my next visit!
Lets see how he likes the aroma of toasted camel shit and weed!

Seed bomb the Nazi gardener.
Drop seeds for edible stuff in 'it's' annexed garden.
Turn that verge into Poland!
Courgette seeds and tomato seeds are best!
Every Sunday morning, open up all windows and doors while playing the Great Escape or Dambusters theme!
(It's your duty as a Brit abroad!)

Schneewittchen said...

Hahaha... and...yer evil. Although maybe I could hang a St George's cross or Union Jack that's even bigger than his maple leaf, off my porch.
I can't believe some of the names for weed, what was the last one, strawberry cough?

Sleepy said...

Yep! The Strawberry Cough was excellent.
Blueberry next.

Put towels out on your verge bit!

Schneewittchen said...

Hahahahaha :))))