Over the last few years we have been creating lawn beds that will eventually run the whole length of the Tennis Court lawn. I could quite justifiably say that these new borders enhance the garden aesthetically, that they will protect our visitors from the 6ft drop down to the Tennis Court Bed and that less lawn and more plants can only be a good thing. All admirable and feasible. However the shameful truth is that it absolutely terrifies me mowing even closeish to the edge of the lawn. On the edge gardening I can cope with, on the edge lawn mowing is quite a different matter. The ground is slipping and dipping causing the mower to veer startlingly towards the precipice and demanding total concentration (um) and a large dollop of brute strength (oops). In my imagination I have often hurtled down through the bergenias (wouldn’t be the end of the world), across the Strip Bed (a little stony), through the Road Bank (sacrilege), down the bank and into the road below. On reflection I may have I watched too much Frank Spencer as a child. Luckily Bossman is fearless but I’m sure even he will be pleased at the less extreme lawn mowing conditions. So this week I have begun Phase 3; removing the turf, piling in a clearing under some camelias and adding a mix of leaf mould and garden compost to kick start the soil improvement. What lies below the turf is horrid, compacted, shillety gunk. But we have the technology, we can rebuild it.