Someone had done half the job. Cut down briars, left them on the path for someone else to dispose of. I need to explain that our homes are managed by two separate housing associations. The briars had been on the ‘even’ side so it’s reasonable that the gardeners for the ‘odd’ side didn’t clear them away. The gardeners on our ‘even’ side had ignored them for week after week. Those briars were on the street side of our railings, so perhaps it was the council’s responsibility to deal with them. Although I couldn’t see it from my flat It was just enough debris to be untidy. It meant that if we wanted to avoid getting scratched by thorns it we would have to walk in the driveway. ‘We’ means the residents of our over-55s brownfield modest flats built where there used to be a cinema at the corner of Harrogate Road.

I’d been away for a few days and came back to note that the pile of briars was still there. On the next day I’d come back from town and realised it was sunny, almost cloudless, slightly breezy and an ideal time to be out in the fresh air. I’d clear away those briars. What did I need? Keep my coat on, pick up secouteurs and gardening gloves from my box near the front door – I don’t have a garden, just have a few small flowerpots at my entrance, and make use of the inner cylinder of my kitchen bin plus a LCC black bag to deal with the cuttings.

Stationed myself at the entrance to the driveway, almost at the pavement. These blue pruners weren’t very effective, even on the narrowest of branches. My new neighbour A came along and we chatted that her husband was less and less interested in eating. I wished A well and noted that I might have dared to mention to her “With the end in mind” by Kathryn Mannix, which is about the slowing down in the months, weeks and days before dying.

My neighbour C came and wished me a happy 2023: we’d exchanged Christmas cards and I realised that I’d misspelled her name by one letter. I didn’t mention it.

An acquaintance E from the next street came along. Yes, I intended to come to the next meeting of a group she’s involved in. I know she has several offspring, one of whom is famous, but I dared not ask how families function with a very public spotlight on one of their members.

A sudden gust of wind sent the black cylinder rolling into the driveway. I managed to stop it going into the road and causing a hazard. That cylinder – relatively tall and slightly wider at the top than at the base. I positioned myself to try and protect the cylinder, but once again the wind captured it sending it past me into the driveway. Time therefore to take a break and reassess the project.

I went indoors and made a snack. By now it was 2.30, and a tempting time to stay in. I realised I’d have to find some better pruners and to try and do the cutting at my front door rather than outside where the wind would win. I lingered over my soup and saw that it was beginning to get darker. I forced myself to put my coat on and go out again.

I left the black cylinder just inside my front door and trekked the 40 paces to the pile of briars to collect some to chop down away from the wind. My orange pruners were more effective and I found that I could scoop up a few briars at a time in their jaws. The stairs up to my flat worked well as temporary shelves. One by one the briars were chopped, the black bag was adequate and most of the debris was cleared. But I needed to leave the widest of briars for another time: they seemed too tough for my pruners.

As I fastened the black bag with its cuttings and took it to the refuse bin, my neighbour H thanked me. “I was going to do that”, she said. I was reminded of the saying “Everyone knew it needed to be done, someone should have done it, anyone could have done it, but nobody did it.”

I reflected that I’d done it: briars cleared away, and what had I learned? Take maximum advantage of a bright sunny afternoon, try to use the tools I had (I’ve never been the same since I read Tony Buzan challenging me to find 101 uses for a paperclip), even though they may not be ideal, reflect on how I’ve progressed and change position as necessary. But: I did it – an extremely small step, but it was done.