The grass on the lawn in our front garden is becoming overgrown again. You’ll remember a while ago I compared it to a jungle and thought I saw a sleeping lion in the outback. A gardener came and cut all the grass. Within a couple of weeks, the grass grew back! My Dad came round with a lawnmower and cut it again. A month on from this, the grass has grown longer than it ever has been!
Never mind a jungle, our front garden is starting to make our once respectable neighbourhood look like a council estate. Everyone on our street, well “Close”, has neatly kept gardens – then there is ours. My friends, John and Simon, have compared where I live to the location where The Inbetweeners is set. Basically, it’s a nice, clean, middleclass, suburbanville. Then I moved in…
Any Batholian will know that there are two post codes in the city. BA1 and BA2. I’m going to get a lot of hate (leave your comments below, as opposed to posting dog poo through my letterbox), but BA1 is where the posh, well-groomed and intelligent people live. BA2 is where the less-civilised lot exist. I only venture to BA2 to watch Bath City and visit McDonalds.
The state of our front garden is slowly turning our picturesque BA1 garden into a BA2 hellhole. While slightly embarrassed, I kind of like the idea of annoying the neighbours with this. So much so, I am thinking of dumping an old sofa on the lawn and hanging a St. George flag from the window. Maybe even borrow a mad pitbull terrier, named Tyson, to prowl around outside. If someone can leave a burnt out car outside our house, all the better. Proper classy stuff and all that.
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