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Slug Food, Chelsea and Underage Drinking

A week ago I bit the bullet and planted some sweet peas to go up the trellis of my new border. I bought some and then T&M and the Beth Chatto Garden gave me a packet each, so in a free-spirited frame of mind I planted the lot.

Now, where I grew up there are slugs the size of baby crocodiles so I am generally a bit jumpy about planting out slug food. This does not, however, appear to be the main problem. The main problem appears to be that my border is neatly situated in the middle of an extended game of volleyball between my children and the kids next door.

For normal domestic goddess behaviour on my part a bit of warning of such antics is required. Didn’t get it. Rocketed out of the kitchen door shrieking “For the love of CHRIST! What are you doing to my PLANTS!!” Pause. Deep breath. Very calm. “It looks like a lovely game darling. Now, could you please be a little bit careful and not squash this, and this, and this...”. Resilient things, plants.

On page 7ish of the Garden Media Guild newsletter there is a picture of Joe Swift, Cleve West and James Alexander Sinclair doing their Three Men Went to Mow thing. A trio of fine fellows engaged in jolly japes. And a picture crying out for a caption competition, methinks (something political, like off Have I Got News For You, maybe).

On the subject of mowing, or not, the picture is of dandelions and if you have lots they make quite a nice wine – if you like that sort of thing and you are about 12. When we made it I was about 15 and being clearly more sophisticated than my sibs I preferred the damson version. Still an alcoholic syrup, but one with a bit more body to it.

All eyes on Chelsea Flower Show. Will it or won’t it? Flower, that is. My money is that every show-related greenhouse in the land has its heating turned up nice and high and all will be fine!
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