At first we though this mission was a non-starter, as the entryphone rang and rang without answer. But we were rescued by the passing Home Manager, Peter, who very helpfully let us in and introduced us to Mr A.

We had a detailed discussion with Mr A about how he wanted his living room to be laid out, and then set to it. There wasn't any spare space, so it was a case of creating it through a bit of reorganisation - and then swapping things around. We brought Mr A back in to check that we had positioned everything to his satisfaction and that he could independently sit down and rise up from the main chair in front of the TV. Now, when the new recliner chair is delivered, it will be a simple task of moving the two lightest chairs and fitting it in the space vacated.

Have you ever had an unexpected, extraordinary encounter?

Maybe you were invited to dinner at a friend's house, where you were introduced to their pair of pet pythons. Maybe you went to some work drinks at the nearby pub, where the live music entertainment that night was some band called Oasis. Maybe you've attended a summer fête, where the celebrity calling out your winning raffle ticket number was Geri Haliwell.

The near total astoundment that prompts you to believe that your situation is, perhaps, a delusion.

Such was my dumbfounding surprise, even slight jittery trepidation, when Mrs J., a gentle soul with a delicate frame, revealed the mighty presence of an 8-metre high palm tree in her backyard, which she had been fully expecting me to tidy up a little, on a mid-May Saturday morning, in Hackney.

So it was, the "weeding" that had been casually presented in the Goodgym mission description turned out to be the maintenance of this towering tropical treat, trunk and fronds so magnificent, it would rival its sister palms displayed in front of nearby HackneyTown Hall.

If you have read reports of other Goodgym weeding work, you will know I, Dan, am forever trying to remain open-minded to what constitutes a weed. Nevertheless, I acknowledge that I'd been expecting to be picking out stray grass from burgeoning flowerbeds, or perhaps grappling with a hardy dandelion or two sneaking through some crazy paving. The sight of a phoenix canariensis (common names Canary Island Date Palm, or Pineapple Palm), blew my mind.

Mrs J.'s son retrieved some tools from the shed. Tools requisite for the nature and scale of the challenge. A challenge I was rapidly rescoping based on absolutely no previous palm experience. Piling up at the tree's bough: shears, loppers, handsaw and, from further within the shed, the telescopic (extendable) tree pruner, which quickly became my new best friend. I was slightly nervously thankful for its calmly vicious, serrated edge.

My developing technique, completely improvised, involved standing at the base of the tree, or mounting the step ladder for additional height. Then, holding the pruner firmly, I engaged the blade's rusty teeth in browned and crisped dead branches. Thrusts back and forth cut first an incision and then quickly severed through the width of leaves I targeted from under the canopy.

Upon amputation, large but light husks of palm fell in a clumsy flurry down to the ground, spraying dirt and dust across Mrs J.'s yard, before blasting back around and directly into my face, it felt. Protective goggles and a face mask would both have been advisable, I exaggerate not.

Covered in enough clouds of palm debris to require a mid-day bath, I stepped back from the revitalised tree, grateful for the refreshing drinks Mrs J. offered.

Mrs J. herself seemed very pleased with the stack of crisp palm timber cut down, revealing the much neater and fresher view of the tree's spiraling green fronds, shooting up and out across the grey sky above. The trimming and thinning brought back an impressively youthful arboreal look, equivalent to the zippy sleekness of a plucky youth's fresh buzz cut from the barber. I think Mrs J.'s smile was approving and admiring.

Renewed sharpness of this giant palm aside, important to consider further here: its stature and its soul.

Hackney's cloud cover this Saturday clearly not the more typical blue sky backdrop to the heat, humidity and downpours characteristic of the tropical and sub-tropical climes in which palm trees are often found. Mrs J. had planted this specimen herself when she had moved into her Hackney home here, around thirty years ago, a marker of her upbringing in the Caribbean. The opportunity to nurture a garden was the property's most attractive feature, telling her family all about the outdoor space, she recalled, but unable to say much at all of the interior, which she had passed straight through on her way to the yet unlandscaped terrain out the back. Her heart was drawn to the garden plans she was making.

Besides choosing the palm as the undoubted centrepiece of her hideaway urban oasis, Mrs J. also gathered a panoply of other shrubs and flowers, creating a dense layering of plant-life, blending flora together in a roughly ordered fashion that gave a sense of easy contentment to the assorted greenery. Recent cuttings were grouped roundabout in plant pots or repurposed food containers, forging the beginnings of the next generation of garden life.

Mrs J. began smiling at herself, when she confided that she knew hardly any names of the plants in her collection. She was simply drawn to what she liked, enjoying all the nurturing involved and inspired by the natural beauty they returned. The humour of a gardener relaxed in their appreciation, unfussed by categorising, without the bother of too much organisation.

Mrs J. recounted a recent visit to Columbia Road Flower Market, the first for a while, since becoming less active. She enjoyed rejoining the spectacle of stall displays and the performance of stall holders. Herself a long-term frequenter, Mrs J. was remembered warmly by the other regulars, a mark of her status in the wider community, connected through horticultural interests. Satisfying bargains were duly bagged on plants whose names she could not remember.

Returning to the focus of this mission, Mrs J.'s Pineapple Palm, whilst extraordinary, is not exceptional. The sheer girth of the trunk, calmly supporting the crowning flourish of fronds, is the same striking combination dotted across the square, in front of Hackney Town Hall. The insouciant poise of the gently bending leaf spikes are of course a renowned feature in hot-spots elsewhere in the world, enjoyed by elegant strollers along the Côte D'Azur and zippy rollerbladers gliding around Miami. They are the arched poise of cool dotted along the paradise beaches of Caribbean islands.

Bringing the exotic has been Hackney borough's role for long before Mrs J.'s surprise Canary Island Date Palm. From around the late eighteenth century, Hackney boasted the largest horticultural hot-house in Europe. It was home to palms, ferns, orchids and more, brought back from Britain's imperial conquests (or sent as seeds) to provide a tropical lift to stately residences up and down this country. A feat of engineering to maintain the temperatures required, Hackney preceded and exceeded Kew through the propagation of this remarkable and vast nursery business.

Established by Germany-born Joachim Conrad Loddiges and further developed by his son George, their pioneering botanical collection initiated the introduction of many an exotic tree, shrub and flower, including the common mauve rhododendron (since classified as an invasive species...), the Egyptian white lilly (lotus flower) and even rhubarb. The nursery was priced out of the area by property developers around the mid-19th century, ending with a ceremonial relocation of its prized palm trees, led by plumed horses to decorate the newly built Crystal Palace, for the Great Exhibition of 1851. The borough's palm past is remembered by the trees at its civic centre, with further tributes to the Loddiges dynasty by way of the tombstone memorials at St John at Hackney church and the Loddiges Road running off Mare Street.

The range of trees found in Abney Park Cemetery is a natural testament of the Loddiges legacy, ordered in an alphabetical spiral to showcase species to all who visit, to this day. The Victorian era of plant collecting sets historic foundations that Mrs J.'s fine palm tree adds to and build on, with such extraordinary aplomb.

My surprise encounter with a not-so-surprising Hackney Pineapple Palm prompted my own meandering learnings of history, community and gardening. And I shall be pleased to return to keep it tidy, as it paves the way forwards to who knows what triumphs and wonders, entrepreneurial or domestic, which may come next, in this exotic corner of east London...

Any and all answers to the above challenge gratefully received here in the comments and / or through creative discussion over a beverage at the Palm Tree pub, alongside Regent's canal, in Mile End park. Where else?

As so often happens, plans made do not always work out as hoped...

For undisclosed reasons there was all of a sudden a lot less time to redecorate a room for a new Foster child, so the request went out for some muscle to help clear the room for others to come in over the weekend and blitz the make-over

• 2 wardrobes relocated
• 2 drawer units removed
• bed stripped & dismantled
• new wooden floor panels made ready

After working up a sweet, this GG 'knight' got back on his steel horse and rode off into the sunset (ish)

P.S..... apologies for lack of pics, combination of protecting privacy as well as being too busy!

Over the past year, Mrs M has been in and out of hospital, and now finds it difficult to walk due to an injury to her foot.

Ivy & weeds had overtaken her back garden, making it inaccessible and leaving her unable to use her washing line.

I got to work ripping up the ivy, and uncovered an underground society of snails. Hundreds of them living their best lives munching happily away. Being mindful not to crush any, I evicted them from their shaded home to a more appropriate location.

After some time ripping, weeding, and rehoming, Mrs M’s garden was uncovered alongside her favourite dragon and frog ornaments. A fridge fresh coke zero kept me cool on the blazing hot May day, and I ended up filling 3 black bin bags full of garden waste.

Mrs M was ecstatic at having access to her garden & clothes line back, a psychological & logistical burden finally lifted.

It’s my estimation that one more trip back here will be needed to fully get rid of the ivy infestation that’s approaching from the other side of the garden gate, and to finally clear up the rest of the weeds.

At first sight, It looked like a large and heavy bed that needed taking downstairs to make way for a profiling bed for Ms L. But, fortunately, it came apart relatively easily into manageable pieces. The rather complicated slat fixings had us puzzled for a while. But it turns out that a combination of skill and brute force solved the problem, as is so often the case. A quick sweep up with Madison, the visiting Occupational Therapist (going well beyond her job description), and the room was ready for the new bed. And not a moment too soon - as I was unlocking my bike outside, the new bed arrived in a van.

As I was going to Guide Run at Hackney moves in the afternoon with one of our Achilles UK Visually Impaired runners, I decided to do a mission in Goodgym Hackney. My 21st GG area and today was special as my mission was with Ms L who is also visually impaired and cannot see much. I arrived and she had a French friend to help her out as loads to do in the flat. Ms L needed us to sort items, clean or dust them before putting in containers or boxes ready for when she moves. I was asked if I was ok with sorting the bathroom, which I didn't mind. The lights were pink so not easy to read the labels of the bottles I found. I sorted shampoo, shower gels, soaps, etc.. I had some visitors or were they checking on me? Three beautiful fluffy cats!!!They just wanted some attention. Once finished, I was shown a 2nd bathroom upstairs and emptied a small cupboard full of hair items like shampoo, dye, brushes etc ... Whisker me this : another mission done until next time.