W*nkers!

Thank you all for the overwhelming, hyperspacial response to my plea for friends. I now have a third one. And I've just ordered a set of really nice Vincas from the Guardian newspaper. Now, I know that will upset some of you because you'll say to yourself 'Oh, no not Latin names...How can we ever hope to become gardeners if we don't know any Latin?' Well it's simple, you just associate every Latin word with something crude, and you learn in no time. Vincas is a good case in point. I first learnt about these plants from a friend who said, 'You need to put some Vincas under that tree'. As she was German and pronounced her Vs as Ws and i's as a's, I nearly fell over laughing. It doesn't help that in English they are known as periwinkles. Anyway, because I'm now putting W*nkers in all my shady places (well, perhaps not quite all...). I'm not going to need so many bulbs so these are going to the allotment. How is that going? Don't ask. Yesterday we had two major fruit tree arguments. As I said to one of the clients, gardening with others is certainly a good way to hone up on one's assertiveness skills. Anyway, I stumbled home only to find that the Post Office has gone on strike, so now I may go for months without a license and, more importantly without a residents' parking space for my new car. Yes, my NEW CAR. An absolutely adorable SMART Passion in silver and bright pink. And before you start, it's not really 'new' but heavily recycled---the paint job being an added feature so I can never lose it in a car park. (I don't know if this is a feature of bipolar disorder or just me...).

A Lurid Fantasy of Monty Don's Bottom...

I just got an e-mail from a friend informing me that mirrors were once used near ponds to keep herons away. Well, that's certainly not the reason I got mine. I got them...er....because, well all the gardening mags said it was the trendy thing to do. They are supposed to give my garden endless pleasurable vistas. But what they can give you, as I've just discovered, is a very nasty shock when you're planting your bulbs, as you see your endless rear end reflected to infinity. This never happened to Monty Don! (Actually, I wouldn't mind if it did). Anyway if anyone knows of any herons visiting the Cambridge area, tell them they are most welcome to pop in. Another thing they could do, and you can do, too, is to join up with Facebook and become my friend. I've been on for two weeks and I'm absolutely fed up with being told that I have no friends in the entire Universe! Has anyone else suffered from this, I wonder?

Frogs Ruin Elvis Lookalike Competition

Well, what I was going to write this morning has been almost totally obscured by the events of last night! I was just get comfortable, ready to watch the Elvis lookalike competition on BBC1, when a frog appeared in the living room (closely followed by a cat). A short interlude followed whilst a very fat lady was seen sprawled out on the floor trying to get the aforementioned frog in a plastic bucket so it could be returned to the pond. I'd only just sat down when the same thing happened...and it kept happening. To the extent that this morning I'm exhausted and I'VE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHO WON THE ELVIS COMP. I tell you this wildlife thing is no picnic. Anyway my main horticultural tip for today is to remind you all to buy your bulbs from a reputable dealer! As Alan Titchmarsh himself demonstrated only a few weeks ago on the Beeb, small daffodil bulbs produce only one flower (at best) per bulb, whereas large ones can produce three...I get most of my bulbs from Spalding, which is the centre of bulb growing in the UK. You probably don't know that Spalding holds the most fantastic bulb festival every spring which is as good as anything you'll see in Holland, but we Brits are not good at advertising such things. I've already planted by snake-headed fritillaries and am waiting for some rain to get my crocuses and daffs in. The fritillaries are good because you can plant them in partial shade and boggy bits and they still come up good.

Mental Health Patients Nearly Poisoned by Allotment Volunteer

Yesterday was allotment day again, and I made a mega-mistake. I washed all the mugs out with petrol! How on earth did you manage this, you ask yourself? Well, the petrol was in a washing up liquid bottle, brought for that day by the group leader to fill the lawn mower. So, I could have poisoned the 'vulnerable adults' in my care, or at the very least made them highly combustible. Luckily I realised my error and cleaned everything up before anyone drank anything. But surely you should have smelt the petrol, you say? Well, yes, I did think the smell was odd, but I thought that was down to it being very cheap washing up liquid, and decided not to make a fuss. You see, I was taught very strongly that one should never, ever MAKE A FUSS...and this is why I often keep quiet when I should speak up (like most Brits...). Only other news was that my strawberries, so lovingly planted last week, had wilted badly, due to the dry windy conditions. I do hope something manages to stay alive for next week's opening. I got home to find the crocus bulbs I'd ordered have arrived so I've now got 100 bulbs to plant in the area of an egg cup. Should be interesting.