Today I’m pissed off.

Into my third day of rebuilding the back wall of the garden. Painstakingly chipped old mortar off 150 bricks and started laying them. One mix in and no one insight I needed a pee so had one ‘on site’ as it were. Adjacent to this site is the back of the neighbour’s shed, plain manky ply except for three 2”diameter chicken wire covered holes. This neighbour is known to me from previous debates about his 12’ laylandii hedge less than a foot from said wall so that most of it grew in our garden, a surly bully type. Post pee a voice came from one of the 2” holes, “I can see what you’re doing you filthy bastard.” This phrase isn’t new to me but said seriously it is. I laughed and marvelled at his acuity through such a small orifice. Now cementing requires water and a little later mothermouse remonstrates me for putting a little plant in jeopardy. I’m building a wall here! I cannot hover especially with a brick in both hands! And the plant in question grows all over the place and if it isn’t a weed it should be. A little later another remonstration that she’d been looking for her gloves for hours and there they were on the wall. Why didn’t I tell her they were there?! One I hadn’t noticed them and two it’s highly likely she left them there during the first remonstration. So I’m pissed off, probably at myself for being a wimp. I could have called the neighbour an effing peeping Tom, not automatically assumed the gloves were my fault and pointed out that nothing short of incineration would stop that plant from growing even though it does looks a bit flat and muddy at the moment. Breaking up a wall, chipping off all the old mortar from 150 bricks, mixing new mortar and laying them in something resembling the geometry of a brick wall is hard work. I should not be chastised for my efforts. But then not having direct experience of doing something, anything, leaves one an inadequate judge of what it entails.