It's like a jungle sometimes.

It makes me wonder how I keep from going under.

I simply must do something about the garden here at Pity's End. It is getting very ugly. The topiary yew bushes have become particularly unruly. The one that used to be clipped into some kind of bird went for me yesterday.

It comes to something when an Englishman can not walk about his own garden without being assaulted by the shrubbery.