TALES FROM THE SHED
Filing, the ignoble art of converting a nice neat round hole into something else, is a restful pursuit. This is particularly true when the round file you're operating - with full protective gear of course; hard hat, steel toecap boots, visor and a face mask in case the steel bits are infectious - is considerably elderly, and is being operated by someone who has no idea at all how a file can be maintained or kept sharp. If it even can, of course.
The key to success on the creation of a creatively un-round hole is comfort. So decent gloves, a heater, a comforting bottle or two and a stool are all essential. Rounding up these things can take time. Taking time is fine. In the lockdown daze many of us have lots of time. I appear to have less time than usual, for no reason I can entirely understand, but while the Better Third is horticulturing our acre or so of nature reserve (previously a garden, apparently) I need to maintain that vital air of busyness, lest I get bullied into amateur defoliation. Which is far too much like hard work for this idle shyster, as I'm sure you know.
Irritatingly, as soon as I've settled into a comfortable rhythm, sat on the tall stool (as opposed to the short stool, which has wheels and is a lot of fun when there's no
