Though I do have a reasonably green thumb, I'll admit the thought of slaving the sultry afternoons away under a burning sun just to raise a sheaf of corn isn't at all palatable.
And sadly for such an estate, Netherfield doesn't come complete with its own villeins or serfs.
Come trim my lawn!
Fortunately I still have several potted plants with me courtesy of the mother-in-law. Fear of harbouring poisonous seed has exiled those dubious pots to the furthestmost boundaries of the estate.
However leaving such fertile soil barren and empty obviously encourages the rampant development of invading weeds. Even regular trimming doesn't seem to have made a dent in their relentless growth. Tended by the recent monsoon rains, the interlopers have grown quite as high as the elephant's eye. A veritable savannah grassland breeding snakes, rats and all sorts of vermin to my mind.
A terrifying thought keeping me awake nights which has led me to find Jungle Jack. From the tempting advertorial placed on the community board, it seems the strapping fellow is an expert at combating such pesky yet persistent intruders. Landscaping, weeding, grasscutting and such - claims the entrepreneurial Jungle Jack. No doubt he has already guessed that the lords and ladies of the neighbourhood simply don't dirty their manicured fingers with such menial tasks.
Whether to raze the entire grassland, choke the intruders with weedkiller or to replant, I haven't figured out. Hopefully Jack is man enough to tame the intimidating grasslands. I may yet walk through my fields of gold.
Wonder if Jack would mind working shirtless.