I went to do that colouring I was blathering on about yesterday, but the clouds that had been predicted didn't turn up.
I set up the 200 yard length of hosepipe to the scaffold, then - blinded by my own sweat and about to pass out through heat-exhaustion, I thought - fuck this. It is not worth dying for. So I went home, drank about 2 pints of water, lay on the sofa and fell into a delicious sleep.
As I was reeling the hose through the grass, under bridges and over bridges, I noticed some movement on the ground which I initially put down to flies.
I looked a little closer and saw dozens of tiny frogs - froglets - making their instinctive way toward damper, greener grass, so the laying of the hose took about four times longer than it should have as I avoided stepping on them.
A little later, a groundsman called up to me and informed me that he was covering the whole area with a Round-up weed killer and I could not walk on that area again for fear of leaving footprints of dead grass on the lawns he was not going to treat.
"You know there are hundreds of baby frogs where you are standing, don't you?" I called down to him.
"Yes. I have done the survey and there are no newts so it is going ahead. Just bad timing."
Now If I were the groundsman given the order to spray the grass in that area, I would insist on waiting a couple of days for the new-born frogs to leave the area, but some people just have to obey orders.
I am hoping for a counter-active spell of good news soon, but I am not holding my breath.