Highly strung

So the doctor has told me to stop. 

I'm at that age where you still like to think you have your life ahead of you but you start to notice the milage clocking up (35) and the boot getting a little heavy with baggage. 

As a result, I've found myself holed up on the sofa for a week, post virus and in my doctor's eyes post a few relentless years of coping with the odd big change here and there and at times a rather unforgiving day job. Turns out this has left me exhausted in a way I've never experienced before and has come as a small wake up call.

So on doctor's orders I've had to stop gardening (and work, rowing, house hunting, drumming, blogging...) and I've been forced to watch Top Gear. Endlessly. This hasn't really aided recovery but it beats Jeremy Kyle.

However, today is the second anniversary of this blog and my alter ego The Hapless Gardener. So I sneaked out into the garden just to plant some peas. I couldn't leave this day unmarked.

Surely a little pea sowing wouldn't break any rules? 

I'd prepared the soil a few weeks ago so it was simply a case of digging the trench (flat bottomed, 5cm deep) and popping in the dried pea nuggets (Kelvedon Wonder) in at 2-5cm intervals.

Having done that I thought I'd mark the trench with a line of string tied to a couple of canes. In went the canes.

I looked around for my string. I'd used it recently to tie the growhouses down so I guessed I'd left it out...

I had. Except now it appeared to have been blown all across the garden, tied around pots and branches, veering off towards the wall and up - my that wind is strong - and on to the top of the wall, along the wall...wait a minute. 

Arrrrghhh, bloody cats! I've been burgled! Not only have they left me at least half a dozen parcels, they've gone and nabbed my string, leaving their mocking trail as if they'd spotted my doctor's note. It used to be pigeons but now cats are garden enemy #1.

I need a lie down.