I had a letter from the council today - the good news is that it isn't a bill.

Apparently, "the foliage originating on the above premises which overhangs the public highway so as to cause obstruction and danger to pedestrians" needed to be drawn to my attention.

A polite, but firm letter, it told me to cut it within 14 days, or risk having them cut it and charging me for the pleasure.

OK, so the Ceanothus hedge has got a bit overgrown, but I knew that, and yes it extends into pavement, and yes I should have cut it long ago, as I also should have cut my lawn weeks ago. The truth is that there isn't time in the day to do everything, and as hard as I try, some jobs don't get done straight away.

In the old life it would have got done. If I'd left it, Jessica would either have shamed me into doing it by getting the garden shears out and starting the job, or she would have pointed out that as she'd done breakfast, dishwasher and laundry, I could jolly well get on with it.

It's those things that I miss - I'd pay anything for five minutes of wifely nagging from her. Now that I've done a good job on the hedge badly, I'll do the dishwasher, before chaining myself to the oven and kitchen sink to get the children's lunch ready.

I just made a random observation while I was out in the garden with a cigarette in the fading light: our garden is mostly out of bloom. It was always very much Jessica's garden, and it is true, I have let it get slightly out of hand and overgrown, but the roses and shrubs that we planted together were spring and early summer flowerers.

All of our birthdays; Jessica's, the children's and mine are between late May and July. Our wedding was in late July and her death and funeral were before our anniversary.

This is Jessica's time of year and I will relish that thought tomorrow, three years after I buried her in that fine oak coffin on my father's birthday.