Sunday, 27 May 2012

Gardening Makes You Mad

Gardening makes you mad.

I don't mean in the angry sense - unless you have a pond iris that refuses to remain upright, that is. Picture me at 5 o' clock this morning rolling into the garden after a night of debauchery, looking like a young Frankenstein era Gene Wilder. 'Wow,' I said to myself as I saw the sunflowers had grown 5 cm in a day. 'Wow again,' I mumbled this time as I saw the dragon flowers were shooting up with the penny blacks...Then I saw the offending iris for the third time in a week lying down on its side in the pond. 'You stupid bunch of bastards!' I legged it down and got my precarious footing, dipping my hands in the water to find the big stones I'd slapped on the basket to hold it in place. Then I spent twenty minutes tying a bit of string round the willow tree, looping it round the sturdiest part of the iris at the bottom, and getting my arms smothered in rank pond weed. Yeah, hilarious, yeah?

Gardening makes you mad.

Casting my mind back to late April, I went to a leaving party for the delectable Mim and her boy Luca. It was a great night, lots of good company, drinking and the laughs that come with good people. I'd popped to the toilet because my bladder was (is!) so weak it often feels like a full water balloon on the tip of a pool cue. Then I saw it it. An empty toilet roll. GOLD. My immediate thought was - 'That will make a perfect house for one of my sweet peas.' So I stuffed it in my back pocket. But then I thought, 'Someone's going to see I have a toilet roll in my back pocket and think I'm a fucking idiot.' And they'd have been right. So I tried to surreptitiously get it in my coat pocket. Trouble was the coat had been moved from the living room, where everyone was partying. I went in and asked where my coat was, whereupon the ever helpful Luca rolled up and took me to the bedroom. I had to come clean, as I sheepishly drew out the toilet roll and tried to explain its purpose. And it didn't end there. After getting a ride home from Euan, I stopped off at Sam and Robbie Analogue's to shed a tear for Nelson. Imagine my glee when I saw about eight empty toilet rolls just chilling on the windowsill. I was like a man possessed, as I got a five finger discount on those bad boys. I walked home in the rain with my pockets full of cardboard.

Gardening makes you mad.

One of the long term projects you will have noticed as you've read this blog is the solardome. The heat sink has now been installed and is running a big cakey dream. The paving slabs are all in, creating a wonderful geodesic palace that wouldn't look out of place in an episode of Star Trek. Gone are the days of dirty shoes and bad acoustics! There's even a small patio of slabs on the outside which house a pot or  five. It took a proverbial kick in the a$$hole from Parsley to get me to do it. 'Don't be so defeatist, Ed,' she said, probably thinking 'Don't be such a sweaty defeatist little pig, Ed.' I just don't get the whole accurate vibe. Is it laziness or fear of failure? Tell you what isn't a failure - Alice's new geodesic climbing frame. It's supposed to take five plus hours to build if you're on your solo, but Parsley and I got it done in five hours, HA. Joke. Just when I thought the bolts were tight enough she'd fly in and scrutinise them - 'I can still see the blue bit Ed,' she screamed, 'these are no way tight enough! Get screwing you pig!' I ended up with stigmata.

Once it had a few coats of white spray paint it fitted in beautifully with the rest of the garden. We moved it around a few times. I predict that in the future Parsley will want it levitating.

Gardening makes you mad.

A thank you meal of Spanish chicken was on the cards Friday night. We were under the gazebo on our champagne campaign, still chuckling about Cakeatonne's radio 4 interview on BREAD. 'Hippy dippy.' You can always rely on Cakeatonne to come out with a classy strap line. It was windy so we headed into the dome, mirror ball spinning slowly, sending out pebbles of light. The champers was making us all a bit jolly. 'PEANUT BUTTER BONGOS YOU BANCH OF FUCKIN' DRONGOS,' we kept saying in an Aussie accent. The meal couldn't come soon enough. Vodka for afters...and then when it went dark the dome really came alive. Solar lights around the base, the mirror ball turning and some garage, drum and bass, hell, even club classics on Heart fm! We were taking to the podium to MC. Parsley screamed at us: 'Oregano, you have to mc about SPACE.' 'Cakeatonne you have to mc about CHEESE.' 'What should I do?' she cried, 'EBAY SNIPER,' I bellowed. 'Yeargh!' Parsley was hilarious.


She shot the words Parcel Force out with an American accent so hard I thought she'd blow a window out!

Cakeatonne was bashful until he started telling us a story about a maggot farmer. It was a gem. As was getting a picture of Winks perched atop a branch shooting laser beams from her eyes!

It's Summer people, and all is riotous in our gardening universe. Gardening makes you mad, makes you do mad things - wear mad things, I'm still rocking my Stan Smith Adidas which are over a decade old. Gardening makes you laugh madly. Take Goldie on the Chelsea flower show: 'Who'd have thought it eh, me yeah? Drum and bass 'ead well into his courgettes? It's like I never used to like olives, now I eat them all the time.' Your garden's rubs mate! We roared with laughter.

Gardening make you mad and AMEN me say.