Of legends are us.a as a

2015 –
In the kitchen on this particular day back in 2015, the seating arrangement was different from normal. I usually sit over there, I thought to myself. Why the change in seating plan? Something wasn’t right.
Evander Arasto was at home instead of in the hospital. That was a relief.
Odd that for the purposes of today I was now sat where Medeia Odessa normally sat and Evander Arasto was where I normally sat. Just an observation, I thought to myself.
Evander Arasto; he’d been in and out of hospital regularly just lately and I still hadn’t got to the bottom of what the problem was. Not that it was any of my business.
This meeting had been pre-arranged, and not by me. I was the invited guest. There was some small talk. None of it made any sense. In the atmosphere that was in the air this day I suspected that some big announcement was going to be made.
If no one was going to be clear with me, maybe I should be clear with them, I thought. I couldn’t make out the small talk as it didn’t include me. I couldn’t hear it properly which was why it didn’t make any sense. .
“Well, I’ve been here about seventeen years and I . . . “, I said.
That was before I was cut off by Evander Arasto Fairbanks, who continued the statement by following on with “No, more like twenty, easily”, he said back to me.
I’ll refer to him as ‘Evander’ (Greek meaning ‘Good man’) Arasto (Greek meaning ‘Knowledgeable, wise’) & Fairbanks (Greek meaning ‘Live near a lovely bank’.) I’ll refer to his wife as, Medeia Odessa; Medeia (Greek meaning ‘Cunning lady’) Odessa (Greek meaning ‘with wrath) & Fairbanks. I didn’t go much on her. He on the other hand, he was all right. I had always liked Evander Arasto. This was the man who had hired me to look over his garden about twenty or so years ago. He hadn’t even minded that I’d turned up a week late.

With the atmosphere in the kitchen being weird and as normal as it was for me to be in this kitchen, my mind was muddled. I almost felt that I wasn’t wanted anymore.
I accepted that possibility quickly, in my mind, before the conversation really got going, if it was ever going to. This way I wouldn’t feel let down when that seemingly inevitable punchline came out.
I’d just come up with that previous statement in terms of how many years I thought I had worked for these people in order to put a lid on this. It seemed the right thing to say, in the absence of anything else. Just chuck something random in and see what occurs.
I could see Medeia’s line of sight move from between her husband, to myself and back again with a slight movement of her head. She was leaning on the table close to him. That was weird too. Looked like she was intent on adding some support for her husband, like he could rely on her being there.
So, could Evander Arasto rely on her being there?
Huh, Well that’s one thing for fucking sure. My opinion of her was unfortunately that she used situations to her advantage. It would be unlikely that this display of support was beneficial to anyone in the room other than herself. I don’t want to do her an injustice, but years’ worth of dealing with folk you think you know and sometimes you didn’t know them at all.
I didn’t look at her straight on, as it was Evander who was in the driving seat here.
He though, he had something on his mind. Had I known at the time what he was about to say, I would have noticed how even more peculiar than normal his wife was. That added support that I mentioned was creepy.
Evander Arasto was struggling to say what he wanted. Like the words were there but they were too difficult to get out. So far it had been a mumbo jumbo collection of loud thoughts as opposed to any discernible and meaningful words. Or perhaps they were words that I didn’t understand. A conversation between the two of them whereby only they knew what they were talking about.
I resumed the conversation with a further statement. ‘Well, whatever it is, yeah, I agree, it could have been’. I knew it to be somewhere near twenty years. When you work someone’s garden for season after season – that’s when it becomes clear that garden work isn’t a short term thing and time rolls on by with the same changes year on year in the same way so that you kind of forget time.

Right now at this time, Evander Arasto Fairbanks wasn’t feeling too well, unfortunately. He had suffered from something that put him in hospital for a few weeks just recently. Now he was out. I was unaware he’d even been in the hospital for a stay until I turned up for work and I was upset that Medeia Odessa hadn’t bothered to let me know. I didn’t find out until I arrived to do some garden work at the weekend. Medeia didn’t help matters. She was evasive and defensive whilst Evander Arasto was in hospital and left me out of the loop.
OK, so she didn’t owe me an explanation, but a simple telephone call to inform me that he was in hospital would have been courteous. I’d been known to them for long enough after all, it would have been helpful to know. Subsequently, whenever I offered caring help, I was fobbed off with a rebuttal from Medeia Odessa Fairbanks. There was me thinking that I should have built up a reasonable relationship between the two of them over the last two decades or so. When it came to concern for her husband, why the need to freeze me out?
Anyway, he was out of hospital now and here we were sat around the kitchen table.

The usual format here in the kitchen during tea and coffee breaks only ever really included conversation with Evander Arasto and myself. Medeia was the silent type.
We (Evander and I) talked at length about all sorts of things.
With Medeia’s quiet disposition on the other hand, one could assume that she was just maybe deferring to us. I’d long ago discounted the theory that maybe she was just shy. She was, as I had discovered, calculating.
Over the years, I had gone to great lengths to ensure an easy air and in return then maybe Medeia Odessa just got it all wrong. Etched in my memory was a time when I was spoken to in a flirty manner, almost to…….no, actually, right up to the point of consensual something.
I’m not talking ‘Confessions of a gardener’ here, but on the other hand I am.

1985 – 2009 :
Far and away from Mr and Mrs Fairbanks, in another part of the county altogether, there was a couple from another property of which I used to do the gardening at, they of whom lived by the seaside; a seaside town deserted in the winter months (except for this couple and three other couples) and booming in the summer months. The lady from that job I knew very well after having spent twenty four years tending their garden at weekends. She was as friendly as could be. I was so known to this couple that I was considered if not part of the family, then a very close and familiar friend of the family. Mind you, that lady had the greatest respect for me and was always forthcoming in her praise for a job well done. I should mention that of course, I also got along very well with her husband too. 

2015 –
This whole ‘secret’ thing with Medeia Odessa; I couldn’t figure it out. Could be that she just missed her kids I suppose. Couldn’t blame her for that. Where were they? I’d never even seen them. I’d found Evander Arasto and his wife when they were early sixties and twenty years later I hadn’t even set eyes upon either one of their offspring. Was that normal? Not as far as I was concerned. Back with the garden folk elsewhere whose garden I had tended for twenty four years; with their offspring, and their next generation offspring too, I knew all of them – on first name terms.
I’d been instrumental in changing this garden belonging to Mr and Mrs Fairbanks over the years with the hardest of manual work imaginable, and there’d been more than one garden, this was the second.
In Evander’s company I was respected and trusted. In Medeia’s company I felt like I was supposed to deliver something extraordinary. Had I been a practicing magician, maybe I could have seen a different side to her. As it was she made me feel like I was worthless on the one hand and crushed on the other; like she had a crush on a desire and I was convenient.

Following Evander Arasto’s return to home from hospital, I sensed he needed some encouragement once again to get going and find his mojo. I was of the impression that he wasn’t getting much encouragement from home – and something was odd. Anyway, turned out that he wanted to confide in me. His conscience absolutely wouldn’t allow him not to tell me what was on his mind. So on this day around the kitchen table, the moment of truth.
All three of us around the table, only two of us doing the positive talking. I wanted to assure him that I was here for as long as he thought it was necessary. I had to make that clear. If it was necessary for me not to be there, then likewise I would have liked to have known. I also said that I wouldn’t desert him, no way would I do that. ‘They could count on me’.
That was when he stated that once he had built up his strength he was intent on building a handrail around certain parts of the garden. For me that was a positive edge on this conversation, even though any future involvement with me was still to be established. I smiled though, it was clear that no matter what life threw at him his garden inspired him. He was driven by a patch of land that to date no one knew better than me.

All of a sudden now, the swing was there. I detected that for this latest garden project of installing hand rails, Evander Arasto would rather know that I was there to help. After all, standing holding hand rails looking out to a garden that didn’t look like anyone bothered with – a fallow plot of land attached to a house – would seem illogical; this was after all a garden of quite some size with the added benefit of an even more sizeable reed beds attached to the end of it where then those reed beds ran all the way out to the river. This latest talk between us mellowed the atmosphere for me and gradually I felt less muddled in my mind within the confines of that kitchen on this day. The kitchen over the years had been the hub as a place for dealing with any garden work requests for and by Mr and Mrs Fairbanks. 
After the hand rails got a mention, no sooner said than done, Medeia Odessa had something to say. From a possible four verbal exchanges with Medeia Odessa in twenty or so years, this next one (the fourth) was the most fucking bizarre. Mind you, all four were bizarre. So she just says it and it all comes out like she was trying to fit into a situation she knew nothing about. “We’ll just have to let it go dilapidated” she said.
I looked at her puzzled, wondering what she was talking about. So she says it again “We’ll have to let it go, we won’t be able to keep it good, it’ll go all dilapidated”.
I was boggled. What the hell did she think I had been doing all these years. Evander Arasto had been quite clearly trying to make a point. With her adding her point of view the scales looked to me as though they were rapidly weighing out in the wrong direction.
I was staggered at the lack of educated opinion going on here. I always supposed’ that she must have been educated, after all, Evander Arasto was clearly very educated and very respected in his field with a top London borough during his career. I didn’t know anything about how or where she would have been educated, I just supposed’.
In my experience the word dilapidated does not refer to a garden which has been left untended, barren would be more suited. And with that last comment, well, I guess that must be it then. But Evander Arasto was shifting in his seat and far from being told what was going to happen by his wife, turned to me and spoke to me face to face and then recounted the issue that had been troubling him.

After listening to this latest opinion from Medeia Odessa and immediately before I get the closing clarification from Evander Arasto, my mind turned all muddled once again. I mean for goodness sake, I didn’t think I deserved to be treated quite like this. She was talking as though I wasn’t there.
Oh well, I reckon I could deal with less weekend work. If I were to take a look at myself and how I dealt with work; in fact, the more I thought about it the more workaholic I appeared. I didn’t want to come across as a workaholic. I did though want to come across as someone who was more than prepared to work at all times, where it would then highlight who I was. Plus, the extra money came in handy.
In fact, the more I questioned it the more highlighted became the case to lessen the work load. From a passer’s by view I did work perhaps a bit too much.

2015 – 1978 –
Here was me who had left school, then college and then a live in agriculture college (after a working apprenticeship on a farm; which included working every other weekend), straight onto a farm where I worked practically every weekend for four years, and after that into various other jobs that included working weekends doing gardens for people (not whole weekends it’s true, but weekends never-the-less.) And nothing had changed in all that time. I even manged to work weekends in my full time job and fit in gardening too. Maybe it was about time I made some changes.

1996–
Years earlier in Mr and Mrs Fairbanks’ pre-millennium property, (the property at which I had first introduced myself to Mr and Mrs Fairbanks), I was given a particular garden job by Evander Arasto; to do some strimming. I was asked to strim a garden boundary bank, hence the name Fairbanks.
In that first property that I was involved with that belonged to Mr and Mrs Fairbanks, strimming wasn’t a task that happened a lot and as much as I loved strimming, I was glad if the truth be told, (at least I was for when it involved using Evander’s strimmer.) His strimmer was unreliable, noisy, smoked a lot and it was terrible to get going at all times.
Seeing as it was at the previous house before Mr and Mrs Fairbanks moved property it would have been around the seventeen or so years point beforehand. Moving house at or near to the millennium was quite a milestone I guess.
Evander Arasto Fairbanks was inclined to remember anything to do with numbers, as prior to retirement he was a computer boss man, and the mathematics and numbers thing was his subject. Even I remembered the millennium house move as being at that time, I just couldn’t remember how many years I had worked his previous garden. I could work it out with things like the car I was driving and other stuff too.
I wasn’t that bothered.

1995 – 2015 –
We had known each other for a long time. In fact, when looking at Evander’s own family life it appeared that he probably had known me for longer than he had known his own son and daughter. Obviously not in real terms, but in terms of how long his kids had stayed at home. Evander virtually never saw either of them the whole time I knew him. His kids had left England for other countries. Good jobs elsewhere. Jobs that I couldn’t do, wouldn’t want to. This made my task of keeping the garden looking good see me exactly as the weekend gardener that I was; a bit lower down the pecking order.
That said, the format of garden work at weekends and coffee breaks in the kitchen whilst all sat around the same table did give Mr and Mr Fairbanks genuine people time, all of us together. The people and company thing was probably something they looked forward to. I’d like to think that could be said for both of them. I know in my heart that Mr Fairbanks valued the time spent with someone different. I’m not sure I could say the same for his wife. It definitely was good for her to see other folk, I just had the feeling that if it were a choice it wouldn’t be me.
Curiously, I picked up a vibe from Medeia that when in her company she looked as though she was trying to put on a show. I could be accused of imagining or making things up when if I explained to anyone how this appeared to me. It was a bit flirty in fact.
I didn’t imagine and I didn’t make it up. She would disappear when I turned up in the kitchen and she would shortly return with lipstick on. She always sat there trying to draw attention to herself, sometimes pushing her chest out, whilst saying nothing. It always made me feel a bit uneasy. The thing is I couldn’t pin down why she would do that.

1995 –
There had been others involved with the Fairbanks’ garden work in the past. I’d spoken with the gardener who used to do their garden work before I had volunteered to put myself in the frame. He’d readily handed over this garden job to me, so much so it appeared on the face of it that there was something very wrong with doing garden work for these folk. He told me that working for Mrs Fairbanks was stressful and irritating. For all the effort involved it was all for nothing. Nothing was ever apparently good enough. He told me that she was out of control one day because he had dug something out of the soil that she wanted kept where it was – after having received instructions to do exactly what he had proceeded to do. That was the last time he did any work for her.
I took that job on. ‘It couldn’t possibly be as bad as all that, surely?’ (I remember thinking that.)

I was held in high esteem elsewhere. My work was of high standard and I hadn’t had any complaints before. What could possibly go wrong. I only ever did what I was asked; which was my one rule of thumb. There had been jobs where I was asked if I could do this or that and I would suggest how. The work doesn’t get done until there is a cast iron agreement on how it is going to be done.
In the early years acting as a weekend gardener for Mr and Mrs Fairbanks, and following a pattern for tea breaks that didn’t suit me (indoors round the kitchen table), I decided to be black and white about this situation that bothered me greatly. From the start, the morning and afternoon break was somehow intended as being indoors. Not my idea. It wasn’t a choice thing – not mine anyway. I wasn’t comfortable this way.
From their perspective it was obviously how things should be. From my perspective it was sort of irritable in a way. I wasn’t used to having coffee breaks sat around a kitchen table with the boss man and his missus. I’d been a weekend gardener for many years before, at another garden elsewhere. The routine at the other place was that I would get a drink brought out to me and I would have my coffee break standing in the garden. There was no preferential treatment in allowing me to sit at the kitchen table and I was happy that way. I was used to it that way. So sat around a kitchen table made me feel awkward and as though the spotlight was on me.
After a short while working for them I asked if they didn’t mind if I were to take a quick coffee break out in the garden as opposed to sitting in the kitchen. They seemed more than OK with this request of mine and I felt happy that I hadn’t inadvertently upset them. It had been as reasonable request. I had given it a chance their way and for me it didn’t work. Happily, based on that outcome, I looked forward to the next time I would turn up here with my own drink for when I was ready for it.

1996 –
By this time (here in their original property before the millennium move) I felt that I had made a good impression with my work practices and approach. Before any work commenced I was always met on the start of each weekend working day by Evander Arasto, and the instructions given were on the face of it, seemingly and usually second hand from her (Medeia Odessa) in the early days. That came over as fairly clear. As time went by the work required by Medeia Odessa couldn’t keep pace with my regular and energised approach. I simply worked out her list of things to do in next to no time. The work manifesto coming from her therefore trailed off because like it or not the whole property contained work of a certain structure that far and away surpassed work only to be involved in the flower beds.
This is where Mr Fairbanks finally was able to act as the boss man that he was. Not being overly familiar with either of them at this time I was still sure that from and based on my dealings with them, Evander Arasto was probably quite pleased to be able to direct me as he judged fit, as opposed to instructions from his wife. I was no longer subservient to her, more to him.

At the rear of the property was a meadow that Evander Arasto had devoted much time and effort into by ensuring it complied with his standards of how he suspected a meadow should be.
Yeah well, a meadow’s a meadow. That was my take on it.
There wasn’t much issue there that I could see. He on the other hand suspected it should contain a good amount of land drainage, for which he spent a small fortune on in the form of specialist pipe laying by heavy machinery through and by a contractor. To me it looked more like an attempt to spend as much money as possible on a retirement past time. But what the hell, if I was included in that past time then who was I to argue.
It was important for me to keep working at weekends. I carried out a lot of work in that meadow.

1995 –
I felt I had a purpose in life working as the weekend gardener. A previous marriage with a not altogether pleasant home life ensured that I was willing to do whatever it takes to make weekends more palatable. Weekend work was ingrained in me from farming days. But it wasn’t as if I didn’t enjoy the benefits of free time. I’d spent thousands on trips and expensive hobbies, caravans, holidays and vehicles and motorcycles. Sometimes I wondered how I manged to fit it all in. Likewise I’d spent years gardening for the other couple by the seaside that liked to have me along to tend their own garden and by now if I didn’t do garden work at the weekend I felt like I was being idle. The addition of this newest weekend job for Mr and Mrs Fairbanks was in preparation for the other garden job fizzling out, or so I thought and perceived it in that direction to be heading. I think I misunderstood a conversation I had had with the other couple; whose garden I had been working (for and in) for at least twelve years and from that conversation I had suspected that the job was about to finish, so took on this one (Evander and Medeia’s) too. Later it transpired that nothing of the sort was in the pipeline and so I ended up with two weekend jobs. It was OK with me, I could handle both with some clever management.

1995 – 1996 –
Up until recently my awkward tea break had been taken indoors. Now though I had an arrangement to ensure that my tea break was outside. I liked that. I could contemplate and think, plan and take stock during an uninterrupted quiet period. It was going to be good to be able to have my tea break as and when I wanted.
Oddly and annoyingly, things didn’t pan out that way. In the weekend that was to be a further two weeks away from and immediately following my tea break preference request, and only about two hours in to this particular day here at their garden, I was approached by Mr and Mrs Fairbanks (whilst I was working.) They were carrying a flask of coffee. I was thrown a bit sideways. I had my own flask of tea in the car and I wasn’t ready for a tea break quite yet. Never the less, I was informed it was tea break time. So we all sat down on a home-made bench outside in the meadow, drinking from a thermos flask, all three of us. They were dressed for a chillier outside, whilst I was in the work mode.
What was it about my request that had been so difficult to understand? If this was a precursor to the eventual way forward it wasn’t going to work. I’d guessed all along that a bit of company for them every few weeks was probably appreciated and if not, then at least something different from the norm. It was now more awkward than it had been before. This new twist was sending the whole situation backwards. Sitting there now felt like an invasion of my space when all along my preferred angle was to not invade theirs.
We all sat there looking ridiculous, none of us comfortable.  It didn’t seem proper. They must have gotten the wrong end of the stick. As wrong as it was and annoyed as I was, I had to let it ride. I had to look at it two different ways: from mine and from theirs. I’ve already covered mine. Maybe they just simply misunderstood my request. Maybe they really did miss company and I was pivotal to providing this missing link.
The precedence in terms of how and where tea break should be conducted however seemed to have been set. They didn’t look comfortable with this anymore than I was. This way wasn’t for them either. That was good. I figured this could only last so long so I had to be patient until things returned to my original requested format.

1996 –
Moving forward a month or so, and now starting out on the task of strimming that I had been given, didn’t go well. Reliability issues causing problem after problem on the strimmer. Eventually I sorted it out and settled into the task.
It was going to be a good day. The sun was out, we were well past tea break time and the machine was working at last.
Everyone was outside fiddling about. Evander Arasto was somewhere close on his lawn tractor and Medeia Odessa was also nearby  in her flower beds. I started strimming on the side close to the house lawn over on the meadow bank with a view to moving out further into the meadow as I went.
Waving the strimmer from left to right and back again and watching the weeds and grass fall flat was really quite relaxing in comparison with the troubled morning so far. Only moments later to be filled with terror as the strimmer struck a wasp nest that happened to be in amongst the undergrowth. Wasps escaped from the broken nest. They were headed in my direction. In seconds they were all over me. I ran from the scene, arms waving. The strimmer got dropped on the ground. Clothing came off as I ran in order to discourage the wasps from coming close to me, dislodging some that already had. It was horrible.
Wasps filled the air. They clung to my clothing. As they were around my head too the only thing to make any sense was to get rid if I could. Removing items of clothing was all I could use as a weapon against them. By the time I was down to my T shirt I had already been stung four times. The wasps were in no hurry to go anywhere else . I stripped off my T shirt because the wasps were still landing on me and I was then stung a further two more times.
I could see Medeia Odessa distracted from her tasks and coming my way. I was pleasantly surprised that she should show any type of consideration at all.
Just as she approached me I felt a wasp go up my trouser leg. Medeia Odessa was by this time stood by my side. I didn’t have the time or desire to ask permission to get my trousers off in order to get the wasp away. The wasp stung me on the leg before I managed to remove my trousers off completely, but by now panic had set in and everything was coming off, one way or another. I frantically squashed my trousers underfoot.
I ended up standing there next to Medeia Odessa with only my underpants on. By now the last of the wasps had left the scene.
Evander Arasto then wondered over from wherever he had been, as sure as eggs is eggs wondering why I was stood next to his wife in only my underpants. He wasn’t to know at that point that I had been stung seven times by wasps. He had bad hearing and bad eyesight and so may not have noticed much in terms of wasp invasion.
To give Medeia due credit she did go and get some antihistamine cream. Nothing further happened that day. There is a relatively violent shock reaction to that amount of wasp stings; which is quite difficult to override. Evander Arasto summonsed a pest control firm to destroy that nest immediately and I went home.

The next following working weekend day at Mr and Mrs Fairbanks’, a few weeks later, things were back to normal, except there was a change in the atmosphere. When I spoke to Evander Arasto for instructions they were given in a manner by which I felt like I wasn’t really wanted any more. Politely but unfriendly. It was a bit of a blow, coming from such a friendly bloke.
Anyhow, I had my instruction and tea break would happen when they decided, I guess. Last time I had to have my tea break outside with them, but figured that they would be sensible enough to alter that. It was a disaster the last time so why go through that again.
After that episode with the wasps I should have thought the last thing they would want is a tea break with me, outside. I ploughed on until around break and then once again Mr and Mrs Fairbanks came out with a coffee flask. I couldn’t believe it. She was up front. He was trailing behind. She sat down with her head held high, her demeanour noticeably different form normal. She was the one dishing out the cups and Evander Arasto was visibly annoyed. I didn’t seem to be in favour anymore. I wasn’t totally devoid of emotions and therefore put two and two together. It seemed a fair assumption that standing in a field with not much on in front of his wife without a good excuse would be enough to upset the bloke. He was probably unaware of how much pain I had been in that day.
I hadn’t credited Evander Arasto as the sort of person to carry a grudge. I was upset about this. I hadn’t done anything wrong. There was no proper conversation at all during that tea break, just a few muttered words here and there, and other than some quite unfriendly looks from Evander Arasto, the whole tea break was the longest and worst one ever.
I worked as normal for the rest of the day and spent the following hours wondering why the change. It could have been something to do with standing in the meadow with hardly any clothes on. I could understand that. It wasn’t out of choice. On reflection it may not have been clear to Evander Arasto that I had ran from the scene of the wasp nest in a panic and removing clothes was not intended to message anyone. He may not even have been aware that I had multiple wasp stings.

1997 –
Evander’s patience had been tested. His life had clearly not been made easy following the wasp invasion. I could recognise the patterns here in a behavioural way. Almost resigned he was to any – what he must have assumed was impropriety on my behalf, and possible even intentions. He was wrong though and I wanted to tell him that. Trouble was if I told him that then he may well have been even more swayed to the idea that something was going on and then have seen any discussion about that from me as a cover up. Who knows. Everything was going haywire.
Whilst working in their garden (a few months afterwards), I was asked to go and see his wife in the garden, as she wanted a particular job done for her, apparently.
Couple of things of noteworthy attention here are firstly: she never before asked me to do work, she barely talked. Secondly: I thought I already had my instructions for the day. So I walked over to where she was in the garden and when I met up with her she issued a statement. She diverted her attention from the flowers she was messing around with and with clear intention spoke to me. She’d been busy with her make-up, that was for sure. Why would she be wearing a loosely fitting summer dress when doing gardening? She looked as though she was ready to go out somewhere. Seeing as it was unusual to even get a single word from her at the best of times made it even more weird that I was to go and see her in order to listen to what she had to say. Heard wrong or heard right, it sounded to me like:
“You want my body don’t you”. She says to me. I mean, she didn’t say it like ‘what sort of tea do you fancy’, or anything like that. She said it with intention.
Wham, bam. Wow, did she just say what I thought she just said?
‘Heh you’, I thought to myself, ‘you’ve just jeopardised everything. You can’t go around saying things like that to people – gardening people. I wanted this job to last longer than a few years and here you are making it awkward for me. Make me out to look like I was considering something different from the real reason why I was here. What about your husband here? He’s one of the nicest blokes I ever met and he’s invested in me as a gardener. Now you come along and for whatever reason compromise me just being here.
It’s flattering you should think of me like that, but it’s not reciprocated.

It could have been something entirely different? No, it wasn’t something different. I had terrible hearing and was aware that I didn’t hear like other people did. I therefore have to assume that I didn’t hear the wording correctly, but I knew I did. I certainly would not have imagined her to say that.
If she had said what I thought she had said, it would be embarrassing for her for me to ask her to repeat it. That may even look as though I wanted clarification. So I then feigned indifference and replied along the lines that I had heard something entirely different.
One thing for sure, if she had said what I thought she had said, I hadn’t give her any reason to.

And so this was one of the four verbal exchanges (first one) that I had with Medeia Odessa over the years. I later spoke with my girlfriend – Troy, about this and she was understanding, suggesting I had maybe heard her wrong. She knew how, when talking to someone who is hard of hearing, things could be misheard. She wanted me to believe I heard it wrong. I am one hundred percent sure I didn’t.
From my point of view, I heard what I heard, simple as. On the flip side, assume Medeia Odessa wanted what she had implied? I hadn’t encouraged her in any way. I was a gardener and nothing could have been further from my mind at any time. I had been stood close to her without some clothes on a few months previously, but wouldn’t have expected anyone to see that in any other way than what it was. So if she had said what I knew she had said and I had seemingly ignored it with a reply that wasn’t related, how then must she have been thinking? It’s possible when looking at things from the other side that it would have incited all sorts of reactions right now and into the future. If she had said that she would have done so with conviction. It’s too big not to.

2000 –
So tea breaks had not improved. They had only gotten worse. Under the microscope now was whether I wanted to continue with this job. Unless there was some changes it wasn’t going to get any better.
And then came the millennium. Things did change. Mr and Mrs Fairbanks sold their house and moved away elsewhere. A sign board outside on the road advertising the house for sale prepared me in advance for another change in work availability.
I wasn’t however prepared to be traded off to the new owner; finding out later (as Evander Arasto was to tell me) that I had been offered as the gardener to the new owner. Although I was good willed about this to Evander Arasto, I was behind the scenes, quite angry. On the face of it the offer appeared as a trade to get rid. But the new owners didn’t want me, and for that I was grateful. Loosing this job wouldn’t have been that bad.

In the weeks between them moving out of property number one and moving into property number two, by telephone I was contacted by Evander Arasto and subsequently invited around to their new house. Having turned up at the doorstep as arranged it was clear that if anywhere was in need of a gardener then this place was it, no question. Big sixties house in a quiet out of town affluent suburb. Big garden too. Rambling wooden garage attached and a bit neglected by the looks.
That invite was preliminary to an offer, an offer of which was there for the taking because in a search for a gardener to take on the duties here at their new house, none was forthcoming other than myself.
Again it seems I inherit a job that no one else wants. More to the point right here is how annoyed can you make someone whilst requiring their services. I was proper angry that during those weeks when I didn’t work for them (between house moves), I was being dropped in favour of just about anyone who showed an interest. However, in the light of day, I was known and trusted.
So I took on the job.
We agreed a routine and a plan would subsequently take shape. Nothing different from the usual kind of stuff. I could see a lot of work here. The place had been cared for once upon a time; in the recent past though had been neglected.
In quick succession I started work there hoping to carry on my tea breaks in the way we had agreed – outside, except hopefully on my own.
Day one at the new property on the first working day, the morning brief was to include what was required to be done followed by a bigger plan of what could be done. There was a big willingness to open up the possibilities by Evander Arasto, as by now I was fairly sure that the expanse of the property was a bit prohibitive for a retired couple to look after, and of that he was well aware.
I sensed I was back in favour because not only was an amount of work offered that was long lasting, it was also seasonally long lasting. The garden was huge, they couldn’t find another gardener in the time frame between moving from one house to another, the gardener they already did have – (in myself), was known, reliable and lived locally too.
Things were coming together.

Property number two was built from a previous generation. Less houses per acre, more garden. Being on the side of a road in a well off residential area, this property had a dwarf wall running alongside to separate the front garden from the footpath and road. Planted behind the wall was a Leylandii hedge.
A few months after starting gardening at this property it was decided that the hedge needed cutting back a bit. Evander Arasto approached me with a view to carrying out this task, of which I accepted. Done this loads of times before. Already had all the gear, all the knowledge and all the dedication to get right.
Between Evander Arasto and I, we agreed an approach with the hedge which would rejuvenate its appearance. It was of a very wonky line right then and hadn’t had a dedicated cut in years by the looks of things.
I was allowed to get this hedge back into shape. And this I would do.
On the day in question I brought along my own hedge trimmer. I didn’t hire one, I didn’t need to. So I started the job by taking a good look at the hedge from all angles. It was clear that over the years, attempts had been made to trim it back in a very lack lustre fashion up until a point in time where it had been left. Some years had passed since. No attempt had been made to ensure it looked good or right. In my opinion a hedge should have a level top if on a level ground. There are exceptions; if the ground angles then the hedge invariably angles to the same degree. This is customer preference without doubt and if a certain angle is desired then that angle should be made clear at the offset. For me, the job was allotted and no preferred angle was made clear to set to, other than to get back in shape.
The hedge was set on level ground. The background contained an appearance of level geometry. The hedge though was slanted – greatly. It was a mess. Whoever had attempted to cut it had botched it good and proper. One end of the hedge was a good three feet higher than the other end. There was going to be some serious levelling to be done here. And that was my blank sheet of paper. ‘Make it look good’ was the undertaking that I had been issued.
Using a simple method my objective was to ensure that the hedge had a straight line across the top. The result must be a level top. The road was level, the house was level, and the hedge therefore should be level too. No specific desire to have this hedge in any other way was indicated at the time and no instructions were issued by the Medeia Odessa. I was happy, Evander was happy, and I presumed that wife of his was happy too.
The Leylandii can be a temperamental tree I know, and great care should be taken with side cutting, however, the tops are forgiving to the extreme. I had great knowledge of this from a previous gardening job that I used to do in a nearby town.
That town offered a tree top cut as I had never done before. It had been a yearly tree top cut that I had managed to squeeze into an already squeezed and busy weekend working lifestyle.