Always makes my heart sink when Herself makes me take her there. I sometimes think she's trying to kill me.
Yesterday was even worse than usual. She wanted garden manure which comes in slab-like plastic sacks. There are blokes and trolleys but you can reverse up to the stacks of substances and lift the sacks into the boot of your car. Didn't want the faff of waiting for a bloke and I'm a geezer, right? She wanted three - THREE! - of the malodorous slabs which weighed 50 kilos each I would think. They felt like hundredweights, no kidding.
It was easy at this end: one could slide them out into the wheelbarrow. I did it for her. she spent a lot of the afternoon putting piles of it round her many rose bushes and going round watering them.
Seems unfair that I'm the one with the aches and pains when she's the Stakhanovite.
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Garden Centre new
Garden Centre new
