Spring is here

and alas, so are the weeds.

In winter you can ignore weeds, because all you're doing is running past them on your way to the car. By spring they're tappin' you on the shoulder to say "hola".

Under normal circumstances I would wait until a sunny day and some free time to attend to the buggers. They can't be ignored at the moment though, because we're practically getting a royal visit next week.

We live on a block where the first Workingmen's Cottages were built. This year they are 100 years old, making them the oldest in the country. Consequently, a big shindig is planned next week. The roads are being closed, there will be numerous fascinating speeches, I'm hoping for some dainty cakes, and the PM herself is due to speak.

You can see why I had to weed the garden. I'd hate to incur the wrath and derision of the PM.

I'd hate more to incur the wrath of the people that organise street parties to celebrate 100 years of state housing.