I peek cautiously through the kitchen blinds.
A green canopy appears, growing wild and untamed.
It’s like a BBC 2 jungle documentary out there,
nature is reclaiming my garden,
and I feel like
this is a job for another day.
I tentatively open the cupboard door.
It’s like an explosion in a skip,
no antiques or heirlooms here.
This is Tutankhamen’s stuff for the tip
rubbish unfit for any afterlife.
Another job for another day.
I’m no Attenborough or Carter
Fearlessly investigating or excavating.
Instead equipped with a cup of tea
I sit comfily in my armchair.
Braving only the TV channels
to visit faraway lands.