26 August 2013


I'm ever striving for the honed post and forget that I don't have to fill in the gaps.

To my perfect gathering the other day - seasoned oldies and simpering smattering of  new meat.

Some of the newbies are 'returns' or think they know the place but we make them suffer all the same because we cannot be deprived of gracious patronising, and, believe me, we do patro-graciousness like nobody east of Eaton Square.

Those Kassiopifflers got nuthin' on us.

Loipon, here's where I cut to the chasse ~ you will be gratefully impressed.

  • Introduced as son of famous gardener mother.
  • "Ooh, we'd love to come up and see it one day."
  • I explain in words of monosyllabic obscenity that I don't 'do' gardenry visits. Believe you me, I have a 'no' on me that nay-sayeth even the bleatest neigh.
This thick moo starts telling me about her own garden back home. Then she whips out her camera and finds an endless array of her naff nasturtiums back home in The Glebes which she cuddles up to show me. Click by click.

See? Wasn't that painless? Why should both of us suffer?

I just wished that my daughters had been present to gaze aghast on the torture and gigglingly admire my stony features and muttered admiration.

"Super ... wonderful ... oh, I do like that one ... wait, is that a luluthia floxiana ? ... oh i do like the mix of colours there."

I partooketh deep of the available refreshment.


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