Ouch.

Recently, I've been doing some work on my house. I'm not a big fan of DIY (quite frankly, I'm useless at all but the most basic of tasks) and would far rather pay someone to do the/a job properly. However, in order to do all the work I want to the house would cost many thousands of pounds. And that's money I don't have, unless I win the lottery.

But, thanks to some inspiration from my sister and a few favours called in from my brother-in-law, I could have a brand new front and back garden for a modest outlay and some physical labour. It's the physical labour that's prompted this post.

It's killing me... specifically, my back.The digging, carrying bucks and wheelbarrows of garden waste about... it's really ramming home how bad I am, physically. I've caught my brother-in-law whispering to my sister. I think he thinks I'm just lazy. Ordinarily, he'd be right, but I'm not having people come down to my house, get filthy and do hard physical labour while I stand around and watch. I do as much as I can when my back isn't hurting.

Thankfully, most of the heavy lifting is now done. There's a guy coming this week to finish off the garden (he has the tools to make light work of it, whereas it would be weeks of manual labour for me), then maybe a day's work with my sister, doing some painting and basic woodwork and I should be good to go.

Unfortunately, I will have lost my patio area, so that's another plan for another time, but I will have somewhere to sit and chill if we get some good weather in August.