25 February 2006

Danse macabre

I sit here writing, a shadow of my former self. No, really.

We braved the feezing cold icy wind and ventured down to our little plot today to give it some much needed TLC and have ended up with our first experience of being flayed. The wind has sheared any exposed flesh from my bones, so although I was pretty wrapped up, I now have no face at all, just a rather unpleasant skull sitting atop my shoulders (but with gorgeous hair, dahling, as I had it cut today). It’s just as well I didn’t take my gloves off as I don’t think I could stand the click clack of bare bones on the keyboard.

We stayed for a hour and a bit before being beaten back by the biting wind and the diminishing light.

Still, freezing cold aside, we made a start at levelling out the ploughed bit of the plot in order that on a much less windy day we will be able to lay the huge amounts of weed-suppressing black plastic that are currently neatly rolled up and waiting in our living room.

Back tomorrow for more. Hell, it’s not as if we can lose any more skin, is it?

Filed under: Hard labour, Seasons - winter — Clare @ 5:24 pm