Topic 6. Gardening and Felicity

I bloody LOVE gardening.

Well, that's not entirely true. I LOVE thinking about gardening, buying flowers and veggie plants, planting a few and pretending to be Felicity Kendal off The Good Life. My God, she was fantabulous! Such a wee, funny pixie-like demi-goddess for all of 1970s Britain to idolise. Attaining sex-goddess status whilst clad in threadbare dungarees and wellies was no mean feat, you'd think; ALL our Dads (they're lying if they say otherwise) wanted to trade that garden gnome in for a cheeky, pert Felicity at the bottom of their gardens.

I, on the other hand, manage to achieve a red nose, a pimply rash on my right forearm (every single time- why?) and a visible 2 inches of buttock cleavage when attempting to detangle the suburban jungle surrounding our bungalow.

Yesterday, I tidied my herb garden (thank you very much). I planted 12 parsley plants, of which I accidentally bought 36 because of B&Q and their dastardly polystyrene packaging tricks. Anyway, you can never have too much parsley, can you? What? 36 plants is too much? I beg to differ! I planted strawberries in my planter, lettuce and runner beans in a raised bed. Then the reality....

THIS IS WHY I HATE GARDENING.

There's always a stinking crappy humongous bit of garden that you know you need to deal with, but that's real gardening. There's not a single trip to B&Q and a ponce around in the old wellies and pink gardening gloves that's going to cause that netting to be raised, weeds yanked out and fox faeces to be avoided. And the truth is that this horrific veggie-patch of doom has been photographed after my Dad removed all of the big weeds.

Huzzah for Scottish summertime!

As long as it keeps raining, we can all half-heartedly duck our head around that gloomy far corner of the garden and say

"tut tut, shame that. Really wanted to get that weeding done. Now, anyone for a parsley sandwich?"