Danger, garden ahead

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the garden…

Spring is a time when most gardeners are raring to get back out in the garden. The snowdrops have already appeared, the crocuses are in full bloom, the daffodils are ‘tossing their heads in a sprightly dance’ and Monty has appeared on the cover of the Radio Times.

Spring is here. (Though you're going to have to wait till June for Springwatch)

But before you go rushing outside armed with secateurs and good intentions, we need to bear in mind that gardens are very dangerous places. There was a fact researched by the QI team that more people in the UK are killed by lawnmowers than guns. That’s a sobering thought.

It’s often said that in any violent crime you are more likely to know your assailant – and in this case you will actually own the assault weapon. It’s not just people mowing over the electricity cable, either, there is the occasional heart attack induced by yanking too hard on the pull-start of a petrol mower.

There are all sorts of ways you can do yourself harm in the garden and in spring you are at your most vulnerable. All winter those back muscles have been loosening up on the sofa in front of box sets of The Crown or Breaking Bad, or for those with a high threshold of endurance, Miranda. Come the first serious attempt at thinning out deciduous grasses in the border and all hell breaks loose in the vertebral column. Those testy characters Lumbar L4 and L5 don't like being overarticulated without a lot of notice.

There are hazards everywhere in the garden – apart from lawnmowers there are electric hedgetrimmers, power loppers and of course greenhouses. Greenhouses in themselves are not malicious and won’t stalk you with ill intent, but with those old-fashioned all-glass-on-an-aluminium-frame affairs, gardeners have been known to walk inside only to find that the door was closed and not open like they thought.

Trees need pruning in spring and larger fruit trees may need to be climbed into in order to reach all the pruning points. Fall out of one of those at the wrong angle and it’s as dangerous as being thrown from a horse, only without the hard hat.

For my own part, I have tried to hurt myself by doing most of these things during my gardening career, but the one thing that really stands out as shocking was when I was trying to move some oak railway sleepers. I had created three raised beds in our garden in Hinchley Wood, but one was in the wrong place, far too shaded, and needed moving.

My sons were away at university so I had to do it all by myself. Thinking that I could actually manhandle 2.4-metre oak railway sleepers on my own with just an Alcan-foil-thin arthritic wheelbarrow and some thick gloves was a mistake. If you have ever tried to lift up a genuine, old railway sleeper they are very heavy, and even simply picking up one end is a struggle. Softwood 'play sleepers' advertised by garden centres are not the same thing.

I had managed to move two of the creosoted beams over, bending the side of the wheelbarrow in the process, and had picked up the third and was shuffling backwards with it. However I failed to remember that the second sleeper had been dropped out of place and I fell backwards over it, the crushingly heavy sleeper still in my arms. The world didn’t go into slow motion as I fell back with the beam across my arm and chest, there was just a sickening thump as I hit the ground. I knew it was serious.

The sleeper landed on top of me and knowing that I had to get out of that situation quickly I managed to heave it off and twist my body out from underneath it. Then I lay there in pain wondering what to do next.

And then a wonderful thing happened. For the first time in my life I experienced a state of shock. Suddenly there was no pain, it was like a big dose of pre-med before an operation. I lay on the ground in a detached state, while various protective mechanisms in the body kicked in. I didn’t have to call for help. I didn’t feel injured. I felt rooted to the spot unable to move, glued down by gravity, but all right.

This suddenly discovered effect was like driving a car for years and years and not realising it had an amazing feature like a self-opening boot. I had injured myself before, broken legs, slipped discs, but nothing had ever come to my aid until now. It was a revelation. For weeks afterwards I had big trophy bruises on my arms and chest, but the most interesting thing of all was that I had discovered something about myself that I never thought possible.

I really was stupid enough to move 2.4 metre sleepers on my own.