Aged in my 30s, I would have planned my new garden feature as a week's project.
I'd work daily, spurred by the imagination of myself, this coming Sunday morning, on the new enclosed garden. Feet on the beautifully laid old stone surface, table and chairs repaired and treated, the whole cradled out of sight by a circle of salvaged metalwork, through which I've planted clematis and honeysuckle, waiting to spark with Spring.
Today, I am aged in my 60s. I am at a 45 degree angle with the green waste bin in the back lane by midday, saying to the neighbour, 'I should have it done by March.'
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