GREEN TOES

 You know how people photo themselves lolling on a beach with the wine dark stretching before them, send them to envious pals?


This my bliss, from a deckchair darkening

• Not a mower or scythe in sight

• Not a soft tread followed by a murmured  obscenity straight from the 'Under-gardener's Handbook' of treadmill slavery.

• A favourite phrase was, "When you've next got your big clippers handy ..."

How i loved to lash back, "They're not my clippers and when have you known me ever to have them 'handy'. Any time I see a gardenry tool, I take it down pronto to the apothiki, out of sight, lest the damn'd thing serve as a reminder!"

Oh boy, oh boy - what a piece of work.

But take a look at me now - free (sing it, Phil), the grindstone blunt and bush'd, blue skies above, ankle-chains off, the mental weals healing.

These are the photos I should send and show to the Simper-Fi mob when they joke in their appalling taste, "And how does the garden grow?" Titter giggle smirk.

Fertilise this!