I am an adult, and I will not be part of this system. Mrs Finlay went too far last year when she brought her lopping legion to lop all the trees, even though the council said it was fine. I did NOT say it was fine, but my opinion counted for little to the Garden Committee out there.

What Mrs Finlay refuses to acknowledge is that I’m a rare tree collector, which is why there’s such a gamut of organised chaos in my garden. Yes, it looks like a ‘jungle’. It’s supposed to look like a jungle! I’m trying to organise a wonderful coming together of trees from all around the world, and if you think it’s an eyesore, tough. It’s not Mrs Finlay’s land, so she can keep her sticky fingers and beak out of my own business.

If I need some tree lopping, then I will look around for Armadale tree removal with good reviews and get it myself. Sometimes a tree just doesn’t take, and that’s a slightly sad fact of being an exotic collector like myself. However, I can never stand to remove the tree myself. I’v nurtured almost every single one of my children from seed-form, so cutting them down feels like I’m lopping off a piece of my heart. I mostly just call in the tree loppers, point to the one that needs to go and then go inside to make a strong cup of tea. And I try not to listen to the sounds of lopping and removal, obviously.

I actually got a letter yesterday from Mrs Finlay- because just mentioning it when we see each other in the garden would be too confrontational?- complaining about my Albajerian Beech. As in, my pride and joy, the one that survived beyond all odds, the only entity who truly listens to my problems and doesn’t judge me?

No, Mrs Finlay. You can’t chop it down. I haven’t trusted myself to write a civil letter back, but if I do, I might just have to mention that ugly willow at the bottom of her own garden. Wonder if she’d like a recommendation for a good arborist in Melbourne who’d take care of that problem?

Oh, that would be so satisfying…