Let The Weeding Commence

Karl von Clausewitz said 'War is nothing more than the continuation of politics by other means'.

I wonder if he'd ever tried weeding?. It seems to me that weeding is war continued by other means, setting nature, in it's rapacious appetite for growing small green things you don't want among the small green things you do, against the gardener
and your accelerated advancement towards arthritis.
And house-maid's knee.
And hypothermia.

And psychotic breaks, during which I lost the plot and attacked the bare soil with my hammer. I couldn't have 'done' a better John Cleese if i'd tried.

Maybe I shouldn't have started growing vegetables, but there was a spare patch of ill-defined ground at the side of the garden and I wanted it to do something.

I also like raddish.


So, I decided to seek catharsis with a blog garuanteed to attract no attention, thus protecting me from ridicule, yet offering a public avenue for the outpouring of my angst.

Now all i have to do is figure out how to work this blogging stuff out and we are flying.