I'm thinking about digging up the whole garden and starting again. Trouble is, I don't want to disturb underground bulbs which means waiting for spring which means looking at a mess all winter.
The big deal problem is that whoever built the house saw no problems about having three inspections covers scattered across a small space. That - and the need for a washing line which means there are lots of places where tall plants can't grow. That and that the espaliered apple needs sun if its fruits are to ripen so I can't put tall plants there either. That and that we've just had the shed re-roofed after the rambling rector rose tore it down and I miss it dreadfully. In a way, the garden was created round it. That and that I like tall plants better than short ones. That and that when we moved into the house, water flowed down from what was then a lawn into the kitchen so I dug paths and filled them with gravel. The gravel paths mean we no longer have slugs sliding under the door (hurray!) but it also means major (for me) diggings would be needed to dig up the gravel which is at least a foot deep so I can move the paths. That and that the olive tree is wonky because I tied a tomato plant to it when it was young and the tomato was stronger than the olive and pulled it sideways. But who could chop down an olive tree?
I've just read 'Running With the Kenyans' by Adharandad Finn so, in my imagination, I'm living on a diet of ugali - a sort of not very tasty high-carbohydrate porridge that you dish up in slices - and running a half marathon every morning when really what I'm doing is sitting in bed writing this because I had a fit yesterday evening. I'm trying to keep myself awake so I can hear David Cameron wind up the Tory Party conference. After that, I will either be so fired up with cross-ness and fret for the rest of the day or be exhausted with distress by what he says and go into a coma for the rest of the year. (I'll wake up for Christmas, obviously.) (And as we've decided to go camping for Christmas, I suppose I'd better find out how on earth that will be feasible before I withdraw from the world. And as one part of the family wants either to go and camp near our favourite library about a hundred miles away (as long as Father Christmas can be persuaded to find us) . . . and as I haven't yet got through to them that libraries close for Christmas - and another part of the family wants to camp by the Fleet because . . . it's beautiful along there (and muddy in winter and sometimes windy because the next bit of land going west is . . . is . . . I've just looked at the map - it's either Florida or Cuba, depending on which way you rule the line; either way there's an awful lot of sea in between to whip up a cold draft) . . . . (I think I need another end bracket in here but I've lost count so I'd better do as I usually do and give you a few to insert where you need them ))))))))))))))))) ). (There maybe an 'as' gone adrift too.)
Back to - David Cameron. Listening to the Tories in their latest manifestation is, I assure you, a nerve racking experience for many of us with life experiences outside theirs and, apparently, beyond their imagination.
I can imagine running with the Kenyans so why can't they imagine . . . oh, all sorts of things!
(Mind, I didn't like Labour either!)