Though I no longer have a car to park I feel sorry for those who get caught with a fine. But I also feel sorry for the meter attendants who invariably get a bad press for doing their job. Meanwhile here is the hunter with its prey between its jaws.
This morning the scaffolders arrive to take down the scaffolding. A heavy shower coincides with their work of dismantling and when they leave, the little strip of grass which I laughingly call a lawn, is more like a ploughed field. But to look out of the window without being confronted with metal tubes and planks is deeply satisfying.
Space at last in the little brick area where we sit in garden brings the perennial problem of balancing it against the introduction of pots of plants. It is a pleasant problem and one which we will enjoy resolving in the next few weeks. Herbs grow well under the hedge but the remaining agapanthus, which, having been fed in Autumn and Spring, has produced a vast number of blooms, is a challenge. It is now huge. And on top of that is an over-riding principle: one plant of a particular variety is unsatisfactory; two are even more so. You need three. I doubt if we have room.