Sunny and warm Saturday start to the afternoon and when I arrived at Mr P's house, I immediately knew I had already been here before and wondered how wild his back garden had become. Mr P said to access through the side as he already opened the back gate. Mr P got me the tools for today : plastic bags and the secateur!! The back garden had indeed overgrown with bindweed and brambles, not to forget the ever overgrowing thrown tree. Task was to cut back as mush as I could. Mr P then started to do rhymes about his overgrown garden : mentioned he was a poet. A few rhymes in, Mr P said he would leave me to my own devices and went back into the shade : was he going in to write down his rhymes?! 90 Minutes in after having 2 big piles of greenery. I bagged 10 black bags of bindweed, brambles, old wood. The garden looked less overgrown and my arms were clearly marked with small cuts and scratches. Mr P or the Poet as he nicknamed himself for the day came out and thanked me. He also nicknamed me H Steph, which he then said Hero Steph. Was this my name for his next poem?