As a 40 year (ok, whatever, 45 year old...) it was inevitable that gardening was going to crop up in my life at some point. It's part of the ageing process (not mentioned by Oil of Olay, but a passion for Monty Don is a sure sign that you are not in the first blush of youth). One minute you think that the acme of fun is shopping for shoes, the next you find joy in compost. Not literally you understand. Though if I ever came across horny-handed-Monty in a compost heap.....
Anyway, (another sign of aging... losing your thread) - gardening. We are currently transforming our patch into a weather-proof garden (last year was so wet and miserable and our 'swamp' completely unusable) and as a side project a vegetable garden. Just like everyone else - but in our defence we were mulling it over long before Jamie Oliver and Gardeners World jumped on the bandwagon. it's just that it's taken us a long time to bring the plans to 'fruition' as it were (de-coded that means, 'get-off-our sorry-arses-at-the-weekend- and-do-something-other-than-eat-drink-and-read-newspapers').
The plans require gravel. I left the ordering of same to my spouse. This is a man who habitually over-orders in Chinese and Indian takeaways - did I see the problem? I did not. We now have two large bags of gravel sitting on our front law. We have enough gravel to cover Wales. To about an inch thick.
There is little point in getting pissy about it. It's my fault for leaving him to it, as, under normal circumstances, I don't let him take responsibility for any household task (you should see the state of the bathroom under his purview - shudder). He has a responsible job but common sense seems to desert him the moment he inserts his key into the domestic front door. I love him very much of course. Wouldn't be without him.. dah di dah....
I imagine you can flog gravel on eBay? Buyer must collect.