Since the old lady across the road died some years ago her house has stood empty despite the fact that her son Alain has declared from time to time his intention to do the place up and move in. To be fair to him he has kept the plot in reasonable trim and has occasionally shown signs of activity, such as stripping out the byre a couple of years ago.

But now serious work is underway. The house has been reroofed since I saw it last in October and Alain or one of his many chums is here most days beavering away.

This has proved to be to my advantage. I got my strimmer on the go a couple of days after my arrival and had done the driveway and the strip alongside the road and had started on the jungle that was the garden when Alain wandered over and opined that I was never going to manage. I retorted that I’d done it often enough before and that tedious and back-breaking work though it was I’d have it done in a very long jiffy. No way, he said. If it doesn’t rain this afternoon I’ll do it. He has of course an industrial scale mower and he was as good as his word.

So all I’ve had to do is rake up the cut grass, and believe me that was tiring work that took a few hours, and trim the edges and corners that he couldn’t get at.

Shall I drop the news casually that I’m away in July and August in the hope that he’ll volunteer to keep the grass tidy?