I can has napalm?

For the first time in a month, the sun is shining and it's warm enough to do some much-needed work outside. I start on treating our bedraggled garden furniture set: sand it down, then apply noxious chemicals courtesy of Ronseal -- and yes, it does appear to do exactly what it says on the tin. PJ is fixing guttering, filling wood with plasticky stuff, and cleaning out gutters -- a filthy job, but somebody has to do it and he's taller than me. Then it's the fun stuff, hacking away at the tree out back that keeps tapping against our bedroom window. And then chopping up the branches so that they fit into our 'green waste' recycling bag. And the other bags.

It turns out that the former occupants had an even greater collection of bits of wood than PJ. The stuff is everywhere; behind our two garden sheds, along the side of the house, hiding behind trees. We have a wood-burning stove, which we used for the first time last night -- fabulously warm! -- but it will take us years to get through it all, if we can get it dry enough and in small enough pieces to burn. In the meantime, it has to go somewhere ... back down the side of the house?

On the plus side, being outside was lovely, and we wandered through the allotments at the back to check on our fence -- and met a very nice couple. We now need to meet Norman, the allotment guru who will no doubt give us lots of good advice on what to do with our garden other than dousing it in petrol, lighting a match, and then covering the burnt remanins with tarmac (my preferred option). I can't wait.