I Bet Freddie Mercury Never Crawled In Behind His Camellia Bush

Finally, I got back to re-pointing my front brick walls. I had completed most of it, there was just the last bit where I had to get in behind my pink camellia bush. About a metre left to do, not even a metre, which I had left for some weeks. Oh, it was too hot and then it was too cold and then too wet, and I was too tired... Sam's eyes begin to roll at this point.

I had to crawl along the garden bed in behind my large camellia bush, in amongst the aspidistras to get to the remaining brick work. The aspidistras were more than annoying, continually placing themselves between me and the brick work, as if they were doing it on purpose. (They had copped a beating by the time I had finished) The camellia bush, with its meandering limbs, seemed to take every opportunity to poke my skin, smack my head, scratch my arms and legs, as if it was a plant specifically created by Roald Dahl. Sticks poked into my knees, my legs and anywhere a stick could poke in. Over the years, it is where I have thrown all my garden clippings, behind the aspidistras and out of sight, so I only, really, have myself to blame.

As Queen sang, I Want It All, in my ears, I thought to myself, I bet Freddie Mercury never crawled in behind his camellia bush to re-point his brick walls.