Conversations at the Farm
The week before Christmas I had a cunning plan. Well not very cunning, but still a plan and not bad as plans go.
Me: Shall I get something to go in the planters outside the office? It will jolly things up for your guests who are coming to celebrate New Year at The Farm. A few pretty flowers work wonders to lighten a gloomy day.
Mrs G: Yes, good idea.
Time passes. Christmas comes and goes. All is dandy. During the festive period I spend a happy half hour in a garden centre, selecting the brightest and best bedding plants without getting diverted by all the other sweeties in the shop. This takes a lot of resolve. Do not expect this self-control to last into 2016.
Yesterday I returned to work.
Me: I got the plants, some lovely brightly coloured primulas.
Mrs G: Are they orange? I dreamt about you and orange flowers.
Me: Well a couple are, the others are pink, purple, yellow and white.
Mrs G: Fine.
Time passes. I plant up the half barrels with said primroses, ensuring no two same colours are next to each other. I carefully pack compost around them, water well and am pleased with the results. The flower casualty is placed on the ledge above, so as not to waste its beauty. I then went off to perform other super human gardening duties.
I return to base ready for my spam and marmalade sandwich.
Mrs G (in a state of joyful agitation): They are wonderful!
Me: Puzzled look
Mrs G (still joyous): They are real flowers!
Me: Even more puzzled look
Mrs G: I didn’t think they would be real flowers, they look great. I thought you were planting bulbs.
See what I have to work with?