Getting to grips with small pleasurescanbeablast

With little to distract him at home, Rab gets a rush from his latest purchase which has found him in his element – taking a fresh look at the great outdoors and washing away his lockdown blues

Ihave a new toy. It’s – oh, I can hardly contain myself; are you ready for this? It’s... It’s... a garden hose. You groan. You say: “The trouble with you, Rab, is that you’re easily amused, ken?” Oh, I ken. I ken. But, maybe, in recent times, we’ve all come to appreciate the small things in life. Still, yes, it’s true, I admit that, at the best of times, I’m easily amused. A simple soul, folk say. Or is it a simpleton? At any rate, this hose is fabby. It stretches to 100ft, taking me – just – to the furthest edges of my demesne, where I’ve been watering the new hedge I planted.

The hose is coiled like a snake, and made of soft material that expands when you turn on the tap. And, and, and it has different settings: shower, jet, angle, centre, soaker, mist, flat. It’s brilliant!

Beyond watering the new hedge, I also got it to fill the pond, which had dried up during the recent hot spell. It’s either a feast or a famine here: endless days of rain one month; endless days of drought the next.

And, by the way, if you think the fun stopped with the hedge and the pond, think again. For I also used the jet spray to clean my car and the windows of the house and the eaves where muck had gathered.

For a moment, I was tempted to turn it on my own coupon to blow away the cobwebs and wake myself up. But that would have been eye-watering. I’d have blown off my eyebrows and done myself an injury.

Playing happily with my new toy, spraying to left and right of me, made me think of how much I love water. Sounds right obvious to say, but it’s a valuable resource. A mate of mine says future wars will be fought over it. Could be.

I think water must be in our DNA. Hands up who doesn’t love a river? Or a stream? Or a sea? See! We all love water.

My favourite vlogger, Jonna Jinton, in Sweden, immerses herself in ice baths at her local lake, which freezes over in winter. Brave gal. And rather her than me.

A local lass here tells me she’s been swimming in the sea – wild swimming, as it’s called now. Tried it once, about 25 years ago. Month of May. The North Sea. One hundred and eighty miles north of the Scottish mainland. Never again.

But this sort of thing is supposed to be good for your immune system, and folk talk about feeling great afterwards.

Maybe. But, generally speaking, I prefer immersing other things than myself in cold water. For a few days after I got my hose, I blundered round the garden, showering or blasting anything that looked dry, dirty or wabbit.

I even cleaned out the bird feeder with a blast of jet spray. Marvellous. And it must be good for the garden. I’m a horticultural nincompoop, but am inclined to believe that a combination of sun and rain is what plants love best.

At the moment, I suspect some plants are thinking: ‘Oh, lordy. Here comes Rab again with his flipping hose.’ But they love it really. And it keeps me amused. Which is the main thing.