Peter and I were greeted by a smiling Ms R. She said that she was waiting for the local authority to deliver a brown garden waste bin. I thought that I'd seen one as we crossed the front garden but realised I must have imagined it or seen one in a neighbouring garden, so I said nothing. We were shown to the back garden, a small paved area with a narrow overgrown border and a lot of stuff: bikes and car wheels and broom handles, mainly. We set to it right away. Work is always easier when you share it and Peter is a lovely workmate - as many of you will know - so we worked and chatted and in a little over an hour it was done. The garden was Snailopolis Central and in the execution of our service, a number of the lovely little gastropods were relocated to bags of greenery and dead leaves. Peter said that they'd be quite happy because they'd still have plenty of food; I wasn't so sure. Then - horror of horrors! - I heard/felt a sickening crunch as I stepped on one! When I found another shell-and-slime puddle a little while later, Peter convinced me that I'd killed a second one but that since I'd already punched karma in the face once, any snails killed after that couldn't make matters worse! (Did I say he's a lovely workmate?) The garden gate had a broken latch and was not secure so Peter (whose van is an Aladin's cave of useful things) fixed it. When we had finished there was a neat pile of rubbish to be collected and a row of black bags of garden waste, waiting to be decanted into the brown bin when it arrived. As we left, Ms R noticed the new brown bin in the front garden (I wish I'd spoken out after all) so we emptied the bags into it. Job well and truly done! We left a very happy Ms R. Peter, thank you for your companionship.