Natures answer to Prozac!

I did venture into landscape gardening once.

It involved me wasting a stupid amount of money at Wentworth Garden Centre buying alpines, eucalyptus trees, hostas and Mediterranean herbs that were completely unsuitable for my garden and which subsequently proved it to me by getting obliterated to death by pests and shit growing conditions.

So I threw the towel in. 

I wouldn’t even entertain a house plant or a hanging basket because I knew despite all my good intentions, I’d probably kill em. 

And then one late midsummer’s evening, I visited my friend’s allotment and my interest in growing fruit, flowers and veg piqued again.  Only this time though, I wanted to do it properly. 

He’d invited me into his community allotment programme and in exchange for a few hours digging up spuds, I had found myself being rewarded with a deep plastic tray filled to the brim with different coloured chards, purple sprouted broccoli, several types of mints, thymes & oreganos, parsnips, shallots and enough potatoes to see us through until Christmas. 

He then took me to the communal polytunnel and gave me another tray laden with tiger tomatoes, bell peppers and a shitload of chillies. 

And that was it. 

I was completely hooked. 

Gardening was the lifelong partner I had been looking for.