29 March 2020

Beautiful warm morning. We walked and Harry only barked his pea-brain out once.

People say that it’s hard to get their sons (particularly) to help around the place. I say nothing could be further from the truth. All you have to do is start when they are little and inculcate in them a sense of guilt and shame, and that way 20 years later when you really want them to help CLEAN UP THIS GARDEN SO WE CAN PLANT VEGETABLES TO SURVIVE THE APOCALYPSE, all you have to do is tantrum and then sulk. Eventually they slouch out and do a good job.

News from today can be found here.

Our backyard is now clear, with good sunlight, and even Gabrielle who was opposed to my hack it back policy agrees that there appears to be so much more room. All that remains now is for the straw bales to arrive. I’m not sure but I deeply suspect that we may be too late for this seasons’ vegetables to go in because the straw will need to decompose a bit first. But the sooner we start the sooner it will be ready for the next season.

I attempted to go to Bunnings again as I needed some strong garden twine. Rumours circulated that they were already closed. When I arrived there was a long widely spaced queue to get in. I did not queue. No twine for me.

Harry has an irritated spot on his leg and has licked it raw. No bitter spray or numbing ointment will deter him from his attention. So he has the collar of shame, poor bugger. His misery is matched by the world. Though not by President Stupid (when the only tool is a wall, every problem looks like a border) whose whose suggested solution was a themed LARP of Escape from New York.