I'm a diligent weeder. To give my vegetables the best possible chance I do my best to remove all competition from competing weeds. At the moment, I reckon my average visit to the plot is split into time segments of 80% weeding, 10% planting, 10% sipping tea & admiring the views and watching the weather rolling in across the sea views.
But boy-oh-boy, do my calves ache.
When weeding, my mind usually floats off into the oddest thoughts. Listening to the magpies crawing, wish I could lasso them to help me out a little.
Or best of all, I dream of channelling Maya from Space 1999.
Then I'd change myself into a weed-loving snail and solve all my problems.
Could do without the weird eyebrows though.