Ground Force

On Saturday I had perfectly manicured nails and a lawn where grass flatly refused to grow.

Now I have pebbles where the lawn was, hands that not even a builder could be proud of, and aches in places I didn't know I had places. It's a job well done.

Walking on the pebbles is reminiscent of childhood beach holidays. Loathesome beaches where sandcastle building was merely a pipe dream, and sweaty plastic jelly shoes were the only way to ease the pain.

Mac cheerfully informs me that if he could get hold of some jelly shoes now he would wear them every day. I suspect that jelly shoes in his size would only be available from the kind of establishment that sells attire for high powered business men who relax by dressing as babies.

Let's hope it's a passing phase.