Green

One of the most exciting things about the house I am buying is the fact it has a garden. I love gardening, it’s a legacy from my parents. When I go back ‘home’ these days to visit my father, one of the first things we do is go for a ‘turn’ around the garden. He shows me what is in bloom and tells me the name of things. He’s done this for as long as I can remember.
At the moment I live in a block of flats and so have a shared garden that I mostly wouldn’t dream of sitting in. Instead, I make do with going to the park and I have a number of houseplants that I pamper. I love taking cuttings of things and growing them into plants that I can give as gifts as friends, especially when they have remarked on how much they like them beforehand. I love watching plants grow, getting in tune with them and understanding their needs, it’s a really simple thing once you start watching.
Because of all this, something that happened a few years ago really upset me. I was living with a girl in Carshalton Beeches not far from where I live now. She and her boyfriend were prone to arguments and one night, things went a little further. He (who shall remain nameless), decided this night because he was angry, rather than just shout he was going to wreck the place. This didn’t just involve chucking things around but also included tearing all the houseplants apart and kicking the soil EVERYWHERE. This wasn’t restricted to her plants but mine too. As you can imagine, when I woke up the next day and went downstairs, I thought we had been burgled.
I’ve never forgiven him. He still hasn’t replaced them either.