At last the tree surgeons turned up today to give the garden its annual haircut. I usually book in August and get them Christmas Eve but this broke all records. Luckily they picked what seemed like the first dry, sunny day for weeks but oh! that wind! Anyway, we are now trim. I had to warn them to be careful of our wall. It seems that after all the wall is dangerous and might fall over. Not because it's old, not because the foundations were inadequate, nor because of the clay soil. The reason for its fragility, dear readers, is that when the blankety builders put up the new houses they dug away on that side of the wall, so reducing the foundations. Our builder wants to take it down and rebuild using lime mortar. We haven't had a quote but it's highly unlikely we can afford that and we'll probably have to have a horrid fence like everyone else (oh, what a giveaway). Ever since The Secret Garden became my favourite book as a child, my ideal has been a garden with a wall round it. Heigh ho.