Our front forecourt is another piece of garden. It is very narrow and mainly covered in concrete. Within the small space there's the path to the front door, the gas meter box, an old bootscraper set into the concrete, and, at the end, two enormous laurel shrubs.

It recently had a "makeover" (ie, we changed it totally in a short space of time). A visiting friend has said it's "very trendy". I suggested that if it was trendy I would have to do it all over again. Trendy gardening is not me. No siree.

It was, I have to emphasise, all to do with practicality. Even eager gardeners have to give in when refuse collection facilities are at issue.

The front forecourt did previously have a flowerbed. A strip of earth about 30cm wide, in which I planted anything I thought would survive without being tended to. I believe in being realistic about gardens, and being realistic, I knew that I had enough to look after in the garden proper, around the back of the house.

So this area was planted with Lamium, Montbretia, Hebe, a red-leaved form of Euphorbia, and blue rue. We've had to get rid of all of those plants (ie find space for them back in the back garden), since The Wheelie Bin Cometh.

Wheeled bins - which have, strangely, acquired the "pet name" of "wheelie" - are large square plastic containers that allow the council to collect our refuse more easily, and cut down on street litter by containing all our rubbish neatly. (Or that's the theory. Many people haven't grasped the concept, and still expect the council to collect an extra couple of bin bags that they've left alongside. And the old telly.)

If you don't have access to the back of your house, as we don't, your wheelie bin has to live out front. And trying to get a wheelie bin across a strip of concrete that is only half its width, and across a flowerbed that gets in the way of the other half of its width, is no joke.

Particularly when it's freezing cold or raining. Which it is in Yorkshire quite often. Your plants in the flowerbed get bashed and run over, the wheels of your wheelie bin get stuck in ruts, and you get stuck into swearing and cursing at the wheelie bin, and offending your neighbours.

So, the dominance of the wheelie bin fully considered, a quick makeover was needed, during recent window and door repainting at the front. We resisted the considerable urge to call in Ground Force, or one of the copies of Ground Force. After coming to terms with the fact that some gardening would be going on without someone filming it, the enormous laurels were sculpted into bare-trunked trees, and the luxuriant flowerbed was paved over with grey riven-surfaced slabs, with slate chippings inbetween.

There are no plants between the wheelie bin and the gate, apart from a specially bought lavender, on the corner by the gate, which I hope will be enough of a plant on its own to make up for the sudden severity of our front yard, now otherwise plant-less.

Very formal now, all grey slabs, grey chippings, and grey plastic wheelie bin. But at least the wheelie bin can be wheeled each week without any cursing, and a whiff of lavender greets you as you reach the gate, just before the wheelie bin gets its wheels jammed against the gatepost.