Kirsty MacColl

Today became the day that I Tackled The Garden. What was au natural in March, and pleasingly roguish in May, had become untamed wilderness as we approach July. It had reached the stage where we could no longer ignore it and hope it would go away; the amount of lost pegs and socks had become intolerable. The time had come to don my specialist gardening gear (“chillin’ with my gnomies” pjs, marigolds, and the wellies with the chickens on) and GET IT DONE.

Thankfully, the spirit of Kirsty was there to keep me going.

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