Real life | 25 June 2011

Midway through my pruning session I realise I am cutting the wisteria up into really neat pieces.

I mean, seriously neat. Each branch is carefully chopped into three and then placed in a garden waste bag. I do the same with the ceanothus until I have filled both my regulation green bags. Then I stand in the bags and squash the branches down to make things even neater. I sweep the pathway and put the leaves on top and rearrange them to make the bags match each other. I spread equal quantities of leaves evenly over the chopped-up branches and stand back to admire my handiwork. These must be the prettiest two bags of garden waste in all of Balham, I think. I swell with pride looking at them. I worry slightly that my tendency for obsessive compulsive disorder is getting out of hand again — like the time I realised I was lining up all the mugs in the dishwasher so that the handles faced outwards at the same angle.