I’m broken, bruised and bloody.
About 12 years go, in my innocence, I planted two “climbing” roses at the front of our house.
Paul’s Himalayan Musk and Rambling Rector. One is a climber, one is a rambler!
As we live in an old Rectory, the Rambling Rector seemed apposite. It has been glorious all these years. Until today. When I HAD to cut it back to save the integrity of the building. And my samity.
WTF? The rage coming off this rose is unbelievable.
Girl Monday was here and had a stitch from laughing. She reckons I should do YouTube gardening videos because even she’s not heard some of the swear words coming out my mouth.
The bastard thing kept attaching itself to my clothing, hair, skin, footwear. OUCH.
A very thorny problem.
We (rose and me) are both sulking now.
But tomorrow is another day…