Wyn Drabble: Things are looking rosy after mammoth task

Wyn Drabble has finished pruning more than 100 roses. Photo / Supplied

To borrow (and very slightly tweak) the words of a famous New Zealander, "I've knocked the bastard(s) off".

No, it was never easy and I have the flesh wounds to prove it. But you can't knock the bastards off without a few abrasions.

Or without eating into a fair chunk of your time.

I knocked them off over a period of about two weeks, finishing triumphantly on the day of my 72nd birthday. My birthday present was the huge sense of achievement that came from finishing the task. It was my reward for reaching the summit.

I battled through all types of weather ranging from mild with thin wispy high cloud to scattered cloud with moderate temperatures and light winds. Conditions were never constant but that's all part of knocking things off. You can't expect the sun to shine down constantly on deeds of valour.

And arthritis has to be put on the back burner. In fact, I shouldn't even have mentioned it.

So, did I ever entertain thoughts of giving up? Never! The knowledge of the prize at the end kept me going.

Wyn Drabble

And so it was, on the day of my birthday, that – arthritis or no arthritis – I made the last squeeze of the secateurs, the last slice of the saw, and thus finished the pruning of my 121 roses. Well, it was actually a 138 if you also add the 17 I did for another family member.

I performed this Everest of a task with no more than the secateurs, the pruning saw, some robust leather gloves and a dogged determination to knock the bastards off.

The whole operation made me very aware of the similarities between Sir Edmund and me but I'll need to get back to you when I remember what they were.

Of course, there were differences too, most notably the probability that my visage will never make it onto a postage stamp as his did. Not as often as Elizabeth Regina, of course, but I suppose frequency of stamp appearances is one of the perks of royalty. As is, it seems, longevity.

Eighty-eight was a pretty good innings from Sir Edmund too. Perhaps my innings is a little lame by comparison. Timely perhaps to take heed of the wise words of Bob Mahlstedt: "Despise not growing old … it is a privilege which many are denied".

Another difference, of course, is that I don't expect to be knighted. Pruning the roses is just one of those things you do without reward (though pruning this many must be getting me reasonably close to being worthy of a tap on the shoulder with a ceremonial sword).

So, it's time to summarise all of this, bring all these disparate elements together.

If you want to be a mountaineer, find your bastard and knock it off.

If you want to prune a lot of roses, locate your bastards and knock them off.

If you want to be a queen, you probably lack the credentials.

If you want to live to a ripe old age, I'm afraid that's largely in the lap of the gods but I'll give Ingrid Bergman the last word given that she brings at least two of my varied elements together: "Getting old is like climbing a mountain; you get a little out of breath but the view is much better".

In fact, because I tweaked Sir Ed at the start, I'll do the same to Ingrid. I'm sure she won't mind: "Getting old is like climbing a mountain; you get a little out of breath but the view is much better though could still be improved by some Crown Jewels and some lovely roses."

There! Job done!

• Wyn Drabble is a teacher of English, a writer, musician and public speaker.