It’s been a well-known fact in these parts for some considerable time that Richard is not a gardener. He may (may!) have many other fine qualities, but he is by no means a gardener. Faced, then, with the task of bringing order to a somewhat neglected plot so that he can hand it on to his successor without everlasting shame, what’s to be done?
A garden(ing) party of course.
Lay on cakes, fruit, scones, sundry breads, assorted cheeses, soup and other comestibles and then invite folk round to do a bit of gardening in exchange for fellowship and a good feed.
It went really well. What would have taken weeks of sustained effort was achieved in a day by a small gang of willing volunteers. We cleared 6 carloads of ‘green waste’ to the local tip, meaning that the garden has at least a fighting chance of being tidy again. I’m hugely grateful to those who came and hope they (at least sort of) enjoyed themselves.
Of course, it’s days like this that reveal who your true friends are. There was no sign of Kim Fabricius, but I’m not hurt or bitter.