... is not my favourite pastime.
Not by a long chalk. In fact, it's one of those activities that I put off as long as possible. Usually until the ligustrum ovalifolium has almost taken over the pavement at the front, and the fagus sylvatica has plunged the side garden into gloom. (And don't even mention the cupressocyparis leylandii at the back of the house.)
Why do I dread hedge-cutting? Because (a) we've got rather a lot of hedgerows, and (b) they're pretty high. Not exactly Longleat hedge maze high, but high enough. High enough to present a challenge to my old Black and Decker GT250, with its modest 41cm cutting blade (that's a compact 16", for my American reader — I know you're out there).
Anyway, the hedge-cutting is now over. And, like hitting your head against a brick wall, it's fantastic once you stop. (The hedges look pretty good, too.)