Plumbing and pruning.

Today we will reflect on the joys of the aforementioned items.
I hate plumbing: cold, greasy, back aching, infuriating, not that I really do plumbing as such, and I totally admire anyone who can.
Yesterday I attempted to unblock the sink, then Mark tried. The trouble with old under-sink situations is once you tamper with one bit, everything else decides to fall apart: leaking joints, weird noises, emergence of noxious black stuff.
As it was beyond us, I called in a friend.
In the spirit of trying save money he replaced lots of bits and grunted/swore for quite a long time before deciding the whole contortion of pipery was in fact, dead, and a trip to a DIY emporium had to be made.
No leaks now, but the mysterious noise has increased and the water is still not really going away as it should. I decided to get away from the darkness of the fetid under-sink-cupboard and concentrate on pruning.
Pruning is fabulous. Up and away with the birds, moments of adrenalin terror as the badly placed ladder wobbles; thinning out the dead wood and cutting away branches reaching for the sky. Every time you learn a bit more — it is a good idea to wear gloves, go on . . . cut that really big branch, shape, bring air in, tangle of useless twigs out. The pears are done, now for the huge almond tree. Free therapy.