Banana tree

One of my favourite things about our flat is that I don't have to look after the garden.  Ironically, I'm willing to pay more to not have a garden.

The bridge.

The pathway to my room leads past a banana tree.  At first, there was simply a pod hanging from a stalk.  I used to bang my head on it, often.  Then the pod started drooping.  It drooped so low I could no longer bang my head on it.  I was comfortable with this development.

But it turns out it wasn't the pod that was drooping... it was actually the tree, leaning further and further over the path.

This last week I've had to duck under the trunk, every time expecting to hear a crowd of Jamaicans shouting 'How low can he go!" as I dash past.

Last night I was sitting, doing something... I forget what... and heard a loud crack... crash... and could swear I heard a steel drum band hammer out a chorus.  I now have a semi-detached banana bridge across my pathway.  The next Jamaican who dashes around the corner trying to avoid the gutter waterfall, is going to come horribly short.