We have been invaded! By moles! Seriously.
The front garden now has a tussocky, lumpy, generally dug-up look to bits of it that has nothing to do with me or Mr WithaY. As I was waving a fond farewell to my gorgeous guitar teacher last night, Mr WithaY looked out of the front door and exclaimed "What the bloody hell is all that?"
As if I knew. That was the area of lawn under my Vibernum bush. Tree. Shrub. Whatever.
The grass no longer looked like a 500 year old croquet lawn*, but like the aftermath of a vigorous game of rugby, followed by a polo match, followed by a tug-of-war contest.
Mr WithaY took the appropriate action, as he is a man of rare skill and resource...running over the lawn, stamping all the tussocks flat with his be-slippered feet, cursing and swearing at the moles. He managed to get completely covered in bright green tree slime (from the Vibernum) and get his nice fleecy slippers all wet and muddy.
As of press time, the mole tussocks are all back as they were.
I will keep you informed.
*In my head, my garden looks like the one at some glorious stately home.