Who rearranged the garden ?

One in the morning. Wilf is out for a ' pit stop '. Instead of turning right and heading back to the front door, as he usually does, he turns left and heads off into the darkness of the garden . A quick sprint out of the house and across the courtyard by yours truly in hot pursuit. Thank heavens it's the middle of the night and the neighbours can't see me haring around wearing nothing other than a dressing gown and a pair of slippers. The family fellows eventually found sitting, quite unconcernedly, in the middle of the peony bed. " Blimey ! Who rearranged the garden ? " he seems to say. Night time clearly holds no fear for Wilf. Adventure over, he follows me back inside and sleeps ,snoring lightly, through to six .

Great excitement yesterday afternoon. A huge blue and white delivery truck arrives. Wilf thoroughly sniffs each of the packages as they're unloaded. The scent of Norkoping sawdust keeping him fully occupied for all of twenty minutes.The Swedish garden benches and new writing desks have arrived from the manufacturer . To my surprise they're unpainted. ' The font ' informs me that I ordered them that way in order to save money. What Scots see as 'canny' , Swedes see as daft. Today, with Spring Break fast approaching, we shall mostly be sanding , priming and painting. Wilf will be supervising and holding a paint brush. His PONtification for the day : ' I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning to sail my ship '.