Today we're in the garden and attacking all the long unweildy stuff, bagging up bags full ready for a dump run. Ken next door points out that our prostrate juniper out front is starting to undercut the low brick wall (and he, being a brickie, should know). None of us felt it would be nice for them as new neighbours to have to bring this to the attention of the new resident, so we had at it with secateurs, then pruning saw, then a bigger saw, then a crow bar, then cold chisels and a lump hammer. Ken and Dad 1, prostrate Juniper Nil. You'd now never know it had been there, all covered over as the root stump is with soil, membrane and gravel. The mortal remains were removed to the tip in the car in a builder's bulk-bag.
Dad heads for Chatham to the dentists. It was a sensible place to have your dentist when Mum and Dad used to live there 18 years ago! All around this goes a texting conversation where the new workplace are trying to get Dad to move funds from the earlier workplace social club to the new (till Project Erroll) site social club. Dad has to drop in on the branch nearby and then, it turns out, has to go back to his workplace of 18 years to retrieve a cheque book.
He has not worked there for months but is still fondly remembered by all the Gurkha security men, with whom he used to get on well. "Hey Boss!" they cry, as he appears but pronounced more like "Barsss" ..... "Hey Barsss... Good to see you Barsss .... You looking well Barsss! ..... We don't see you no more, Barssss! .... How you get on , Barssss?" It takes a while to escape.
What it is to be popular!