Here on Pig Row there are fits of giggles from Little D as he stomps up and down the path in front of our house, as his Mum and I look at our small car boot.
There are sheds and then there are sheds on Pig Row. There are sheds that are built to house tools, spades, lawnmowers, trampolines and screws. There are sheds that are churches to screws, nails and an array of masculine power tools. I never thought I would build a shed for crockery.
Here on Pig Row we have been thrown by the weather. Rain and rain and more rain. We are weeks behind with the weeding, the rain has been a boon to the weeds and not to the skin of the gardener, me. Little D and his Mum have watched from the kitchen window as a trudge up the wet steps to a wetter garden coming back ninety minutes later, blackened, muddy and tired.
