Five years ago in the Scandinavian backwoods, I planted the stock of a vine in a pergola and enjoyed watching it grow strongly, up and over the framework each summer; duly flowering and offering up a few bunches of green grapes every year.
Just before the Beast from the East passed through, I pruned it back and transplanted it into a biggish pot for its move to Blighty, hoping it could survive its man-handling. And here it is! Three weeks into its life here, it is just starting to come into leaf (almost a month later than ‘normal’), encouraged by a spell of weather better suited to its Mediterranean origins.
As you can see, I have planted a few strawberry plants for company, and it has a commanding view of my neighbour’s manicured English garden. And a little Greek pot provides nostalgic comfort for greyer days.
Later this year, I’ll post another picture – which I hope will show how it has thrived in sunny Sussex.
Like everything else, even the hot and sultry weeks old Srius used to offer us have changed – to cool and damp. And countless Charioteers (at least I have lost count) are taking their R and R away from the proferred joys of our W and W (er…. wit and wisdom?).
The remaining participants are ‘off’ politics, off royalty, off meteorological mysteries – so what’s left? The culinary arts, garden rescue, tales of times past….and of course, love – the passion that drives us.
Better to let sleeping dogs lie, eh?
‘Right, Gran. I’m takin’ a year off to look after you
– bring us a cuppa tea will you?’ (Mac in the Mail)
The Onslow* generation will welcome the idea, mine will not. I’ll ask the clan next time I’m over there but I can’t see it catching on, even among Ms May’s homogeneous ‘workers’. What is she thinking?
*you may need to research this
Our favourite future King is a smart cookie (© Don the One), preparing for the sponsorship of the monarchy – the Waitrose Organic King Charles III.
* sic, according to the delicious Daily Mail today.
Now showing at the NGV in Melbourne, our old cobber van Go’.
Now showing in a Hertfordshire garden. Not a crime shed. Maybe he’d just found his dog, always worth celebrating.
The path is strewn with wood anemones this morning.
The illustrious Pound Sterling will appreciate on your departure!