You know what drives me crazy? Well, crazier than normal! It’s the bloody liars who write the blurb for household products that promise you a hassle free life once you have parted with your hard earned cash.

In particular I refer to gardening aids. Or, more specifically, anything to do with watering blasted gardens. I am writing this, still somewhat damp around the edges, but more of that as this story progresses!

Now I don’t know about you, but watering the garden and in particular the various hanging baskets and troughs of flowers around the place is deemed to be MY work.

I have accepted this because I get utterly bored with the alternative, which is several hours of haranguing about how every other job in the house falls to Da Boss. And so each evening – apart from when it has poured all day, I trudge about the place with a watering can or a hosepipe. And that dear reader is how I ended up in a particularly damp and fed up mood.

Now I do have a history with hosepipes. For years I have battled with various versions, all of which eventually spring holes along their length and end up with just a trickle coming from the business end of the hosepipe.

I have spent countless hours unrolling and then rolling up the said hosepipes in an attempt to avoid falling over them in the garage. This was also in a vain attempt to make one last more than a season or two before it simply became a long and thin colander.

Eventually though I succumbed to the silky prose of one of those little magazines that appear from nowhere and offer you all kinds of labour saving devices.

“Forget your battles with kinks and knots,” ran the message. “Banish forever those awkward moments, this scientifically designed hosepipe will make your life so much easier!”

It then went on for paragraph after paragraph describing a heavenly existence free from all the nightmares that beset the occasional gardener such as myself. I was hooked!

But they lied, they double damn lied. And worst of all I knew they were lying right from the outset. Why? Because I too have told the same silky soft lies on behalf of my clients at one time or another. And yet I fell for it!

So it was that the early evening after a glorious day of sunshine was spent fighting with this super “unkinkable” hose. It is one of those glorious pre kinked ones that unravels to three times its stored length simply by pulling it.

Yeah right. That might be the case if you have a completely straight line between the tap and where you want to water. But in this house and garden there are gates to negotiate, corners to work round and thousands of awkward little spots where the hose conveniently snags itself on a bush or rose arbour or basically anything it can darned well find.

As for the carefully scientifically designed pre-coiling, well come the revolution I am going to take the scientists who developed this and have them spend days and weeks trying to unravel it.

snakeheadYou see, the carefully pre-coiled hosepipe likes nothing better than to wrap itself into cunning knots and then defy all your efforts to unravel it. Of course it doesn’t kink. It has no need to do so, because it has carefully stuck itself together tighter than a pair of amorous rattlesnakes.

Eventually after I had finally disentangles the hosepipe and struggled down the garden and to the various fruit trees and shrubs that were gasping for water I was ready to attach the “Watering wand”.

Once again I had been suckered into buying this so that watering all the hanging baskets “would be an absolute breeze with no unnecessary stretching or straining. They didn’t mention the leaking attachment or the way that you could happily pour three or four gallons of freezing cold water down your arm whilst avoiding the stretch and strain.

Then, finally when I dragged the hosepipe the last ten or twenty feet to the end of the garden I discovered that there was not even a trickle coming from the magic watering wand.

The unkinkable hose had played its final trick on me. It had kinked! And worst of all I then had to try and find out just where on its hundred foot length the kink was.

You see it was so ashamed of actually kinking that it had tried to hide the blockage. Fortunately I spotted it and sorted everything out, only to return to the magic watering wand and then thoroughly soak myself!

Game over. I retired hurt, and wet, and grumpy! Nuff said.