New fence

I didn’t know, till we bought a house in a terrace, that a householder is responsible for the border fence to the left of the property as they look out.

Fair enough. Except that our fence on that side had rotted and was drooping into next door’s garden. Our neighbours (Holly and Roger) are lovely, and they were very nicer about it, but the imperative to sort the fence out grew with every windy day. They’re expecting their first child, so wanted to do what they could to prepare the house. They offered to help me replace the fence, which was kind of them; they had no obligation to do that. But it was a way of making sure it got done, and that it got done properly. They’d built an equivalent fence on the other side of their property, so they knew what they doing and had acquired the requisite tools. As with anything, with the right tools, the job becomes considerably easier.

We spent a Saturday doing the work. We ripped the old fence down the evening before, then set to on Saturday morning. We were finished in time for Roger to watch the Grand National at five. Roger called the shots. I was his willing grafter, and while Roger did the technical stuff, I spent my time breaking the old fence down and ripping the nails out to make sure the dog didn’t tread on them.

So here it is, the work done. I love it. I love the battens. I thought I’d hate the concrete posts, but they look tidy.