I met a LADY as I was walking up a Merchiston street today. "Would you look at the state of that?" she asked in her plummy Miss-Jean-Brodie voice, pointing at a hedge which would pass for reasonably tidy in my street / opinion. "It's the chap downstairs, it has nothing to do to me", she continued, going through the gate.

Ah well, at least she has one. I wonder what she would make of my dilapidated wall?

I also wonder if the builder (Scarlet Pimpernel) will return from his parallel universe tomorrow and fix it?