The Jungle

Now this could mean many things to many people. To those horrible, horrible Celtic fans (my three sons included) it was the ‘shed’ where the more vociferous, or should that be vicious, Celtic fans used to gather at that dump known as Parkhead.

 To any old Japanese readers, it probably brings back memories of hiding in the undergrowth waiting for the war to end, unaware that it had actually finished 50 years before!

To me – it means my ‘garden’. An ever-present reminder of how lazy I’ve become since I’ve discovered the joys of retirement but over the last week or so, as the weather has steadily improved, I have ventured down into bits of my ‘garden’ that I have never set foot on - ever. Amazing!

When we bought the house, we had the 'jungle' cleared by some guys who needed work. It cost a fortune which luckily I managed to get the vendor to pay half of but since then (about 8 years ago) it’s been left to its own devices, growing prodigiously, especially the areas which ‘benefit’ from the outflows from the various pipes (don’t go there). And so I’ve been trying to get to bits of the land which, frankly, are impenetrable and if you think that’s an exaggeration see the picture, although it probably does not accurately convey the savagery of some of these plants. Yesterday, in an effort to cut down some of the trees which have just sprung up, I had to cut my way into the northern side of the ground with a chainsaw. Some of the bushes are so thick and prickly that even the chainsaw struggled to cope but eventually I made it to the base of trees which have not felt a human hand on their little trunks for over 8 years.

Being in a fire risk area in summer, the land has to be kept clear in case of a carelessly jettisoned cigarette end and indeed we do get the occasional letter in early summer telling us to make sure land is ‘cleared’ within 50 metres of other houses. Apparently, failure to do so means a gang of council workers descend on you and once they’ve cleared the land, a huge bill lands on your doormat. Luckily, despite the fact that my jungle would keep the council in work for months, they’ve never so much as threatened me – maybe the spiky bushes have put them off? Or it could be that they are concentrating on my neighbour’s land (not old Frenchie) which is far worse than mine – let’s hope so.

The motivation and ultimate reward is to stand on the balcony of my house and look down upon my manicured terraces and glow with pride. But that will just be the start. As soon as it’s in great condition, it will start to grow once more and the whole cycle will begin again. In the meantime, I will continue to venture into areas of my garden which have rarely seen the human form and in the process get covered in cuts and scratches. 

Stop Press: J has got sick of my lack of enthusiasm with respect to the ‘jungle’ and has asked some guys to provide a devis (an estimate) for clearing it. I steadfastly refuse to pay for something I am doing in my own time. Watch this space!