A compulsive drive for efficiency in getting stuff done without resorting to vehicle usage made me walk around the borough on Friday afternoon with two golden, giant balloons tied to my rucksack. I had them with me when Ms M's friend opened the door to the older lady's house in Hanwell.

"Hi, I'm Kash from GoodGym. I'm here to help with the garden."
"I thought you were advertising something."
"Not at all. My volunteering group is celebrating its 10th anniversary tomorrow. That's what the balloons are for."

The friend bought into my - completely true - story and called Ms M to the door.

"You will be shocked!" Ms M announced mischievously.
"You will be shocked too!" I replied, raising the stakes.

I brought my two shocking, floating golden companions through the door and explained what they're about. Ms M had a cool impression of a person who had seen it all, including gardeners bringing huge birthday balloons to the job. She was more than happy to let me leave them in the living room during the mission.

When I walked through the door to the back garden, the scene didn't appear shocking to me either. The dried, dead pot plants looked miserable, but I couldn't pinpoint anything particularly sensational there. It was bindweed that was supposed to raise my blood pressure.

Bindweed covered a decent chunk of the paving, flower beds and crowns of the overgrown bushes, but was easy to pull out. I was mostly done with it - at least on the ground level - in the first twenty minutes. I've asked about the overgrown bushes, and Ms M expressed she'd be keen to get them trimmed, but only if I have time to tackle the hedge in the front. I agreed to cut back both the plants in the back and in the front.

Perhaps I chose too short a ladder for the task, as reaching the tops of the bushes took more time than it needed to. Content with my job with the trimming, I swept the cuttings, packed them with bindweed into the green bin, then headed to the front garden.

The hedge was small, and so was the tool available for the job. Ms M couldn't find the shears, so I only had secateurs to trim the whole hedge. I had 15 minutes to complete this, sweep the paving and lock up the tool. I decided it would be better to do a less-than-top-quality trim than leave Ms M with a problematic monster hedge she wasn't able to cut back herself. And that's what I did. Ms M was delighted to see the result, even if it wasn't up to my desired standard.

I reminded myself to take the golden balloons before I left, and embarked on my next adventure.