In the bottom corner of our field we have an old tree, it’s actually planted in next doors field, but it feels like ours. The reason for this is that it is gradually falling down and has chosen to do it in our direction.

I’m ashamed to say I don’t really know what kind of tree it is, possibly some kind of willow, but I do know that despite it’s great age and poor state, it is still growing vigourously.

Over the years it has dropped lower and lower, branches that at one time I couldn’t reach are now at ground level. The huge trunk is split and each year more and more of it overhangs our field.

Mowing is a nightmare. I’ve lost count of the number of times it’s nearly knocked me off my mower. Doing any work in that particular corner is a real problem. I’m not very tall, but even I should really be wearing a hard hat.

Every so often we attack its lower branches with a saw, loppers and a lot of optomism. Yesterday was such a day. After dinner, quite out of the blue we set about it.

You don’t realise just how big a tree is until you have to cart it away in a wheelbarrow! Peter’s sawing days are really over and he found some of the branches very tricky even with me sitting on them.

Anyway after a couple of hours we did feel to have made some head way, and rewarded ourselves with a sit down and an ice lolly.

Today we are both aching and sore with blisters, nettle stings and bramble scratches from grovelling in the ditch. We’re getting too old for this.