One of the things about a bad back is watching the garden quietly take over. I swear if I open the back door it'll all swarm into the house, the hydrangea will barge past me, the fuchsia will go into the kitchen and put the kettle on, and the passionflower will make itself at home on the settee, pick up the remote, and put the TV on. Time to give lovely younger son a big hug and the shears.
I can still water it, but I can't carry a whole bucket of water. Squash bottle full, yes, but that's a lot of journeys to and from the tap. No wonder Much is rocking with laughter.
The new bear has overcome his shyness and intends to stay. He still doesn't have a name.
Sorry about the crash, that was Much falling off his snail.