Sometimes it feels lonely

being one of the few intelligent life forms on this planet. Over the weekend I laboured in my garden removing an invasive species of plant, periwinkle, which forms matted roots which required me to use a mattock to get through. I took them to my back garden and tried to burn them. The fire smouldered all night, but didn't destroy half the pest. I'll finish the job tonight, thought I.

I didn't count on my neighbours and their occasional idiocy. They'd been off in their caravan for the weekend and came home this morning. I checked at seven this evening, no washing on the line, so just watch the highlights of the tour and do my bonfire. I came out at eight and they'd hung two lines of washing out, it will be out all night and rain is forecast tomorrow.

I decided as a good neighbour I couldn't burn my rubbish, though my washing wouldn't stop him burning his, as I've learned in the past. But being a woman, I wouldn't like my washing to smell of smoke, so I don't expect others to either.

Like I said, it gets lonely when...