Garden House

After months of waiting and many heated telephone calls and wondering if it would ever happen, I went to collect the keys to the house. Birt was in Cambridge and couldn't share this momentous occasion with me....hmm it was exciting but it was a tad strange walking across the threshold of the new house. It wasn't quite the experience of walking in and unpacking straight away. The house had not been lived in for the last year and the place resembled a throwback to the 1950's. It had the strange smell of eau de dog and dog hair was stuck to every possible surface.
So the yellow rubber gloves were put on and Pickle went AWOL with bleach. Every possible nook and cranny was attacked with gusto. Birt was greeted witha very flustered and fed up Pickle when he made it from Cambridge armed with all his worldy goods. The cooker left by the owners had defeated poor old Pickle and she could not get through the grease that had accumulated over the last 30 odd years. Birt seemed to think that Pickle was obviously not trying hard enough and set upon the grill pan, shelves etc with a scouring pad....hmmm nope no shifting there. Wire brush came next....nope that didn't either...wire attachment on a drill....nope no shifting! So after a few days of debating a new cooker...a rush of inspiration came when mooching around the garage...ENGINE DEGREASER. Hmm baby that stuff worked straight away and could have saved poor Pickle's fingers from the blisters she had. So now we are the proud owner of a lemon smelling gleaming cooker!

Birt was also met with a rather hacked garden. The garden had become a jungle in the time that we placed the offer on the house. Pickle set upon it with some garden shears and as a result there was a pile of garden debris taller than her. Birt helped out a few days later and the garden looked a bit barren. Pickle wandered if the garden would ever be the same again.