HORSETALES (Monday)

I went to the allotment this afternoon. Meant to go for an hour but it was two I spent digging and pulling up horsetail.
‘Hey,’ said a man’s voice and I looked up to see him standing by the gate, on his way out.
‘Hello,’ I said.
‘You used to have to take your shoes off when you came before,’ he said.
‘Why’s that then?’
‘It was like a palace,’ he said. ‘But now?’ shaking his head.
‘Now?’
‘Now, you can see what it’s like... It’s the women,’ he said.
‘They like it wild?’
‘One or two is okay but there’s too many of them.’
‘They get everywhere,’ I said.
Later a man came over and said, ‘You’ll be glad to hear that next door has been asked to leave.’
Next door was overgrown, four foot high and more, and I’d used a scythe and shears in a brief then despairing attempt to uncover the path.
‘I was thinking of taking a strimmer to it,’ I said. ‘Open up the path.’
‘The new person’ll appreciate it, I’d think,’ he said, then, ‘You know what his excuse was, don’t you?’
‘Tell me.’
‘It was always raining,’ he shook his head and laughed, scorning.
‘You leave it too long and they start to merge,’ I said.
‘I’ve got the same problem next to me.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘The one with the easy chair,’ pointing.
‘Nice,’ I said, imagining sitting in a chair at the top of the hill, the evening sun, cocktails, a small fire.