Sadly studies show that since 1945 half of all British hedgerows – covering around 118,000 miles – have disappeared. Despite having been planted and tended since at least 2500 BC, the ‘hedge’ plays a vital role in providing food and protection not just to humans and their farm animals, but also to a huge variety of birds, mammals and insects. In the push to end rationing after World War Two, hedgerows were considered to be hindering necessary crop production, and satiating human hunger was prioritised over wildlife havens.

Hedges are amazing things when managed properly. When coppiced and trimmed regularly, they become an impenetrable hedge that is able to retain and shelter livestock, protect crops from bitter winds, and delineate who owns what. I have tried my hand at traditional hedge laying and it is not only extremely complex but back-achingly physical work too.

There is a more recent trend to ‘hit the ‘hedgelines’ and one that I have sort-of adopted at the cottage. The dead hedge. Not as macabre as it sounds, and created by design rather than default or destruction, a ‘dead hedge’ is basically an upright structure of woody cuttings woven, or even just stacked, between vertical stakes. The reason I created mine was that I didn’t want to have to lug all the wood I had cut back from the buddleia and shrub rose out of the garden. It is actually still a work in progress because as I stacked up the dead buddleia at the end of last year, I noticed evidence of a house-hunting hedgehog, so left the half finished heap of wood plugging a gap at the bottom of some hazel trees at the end of the garden.

Recently I had worked my way through my to-do list to ‘d’ for dead hedge and when I went to finish the job, I noticed a wren busily building her nest – so left it alone again. So my own dead hedge maybe still under construction but it has already provided sanctuary for several house-hunters. Despite meaning that my to-do list is slow to clear, that is a good result as far as I’m concerned.

When done properly - and completed - a dead hedge is also great way to hide a compost heap or similar. It is the same principle as a willow hurdle really, but is far more likely to attract wildlife by providing a more natural habitat.

I know someone who has actually created a substantial dead hedge as a boundary fence between their garden and the farmer’s field – with great success. There are plenty of more detailed instructions online – have a look at www.rspb.org.uk/helping-nature/what-you-can-do/activities/build-a-dead-hedge-for-wildlife.

And although it’s a somewhat tenuous link to a ‘dead hedge’, I feel compelled to recommend a beautiful little book I have just read (thank you to Diana for the borrow). A Beginner’s Guide to Dying is written by Simon Boas and is possibly the most humorous, heart warming and heart wrenching, beautiful book you will ever read. It was written and compiled after one of Simon’s columns for the Jersey Gazette went viral. That particular column is included – and elaborated upon – and you’ll see why it touched so many people. It’s a short book – and there’s a reason for that, which I won’t spoil. Not only will this little book give you a new perspective on dying but also on living. And, as well as Simon’s personal thoughts and experiences, it has a very touching, and enlightening section about how to treat someone who is dying.

It is a book for anyone who is going to die.