This late spring weather, laughingly described as changeable, a typical weatherman’s understatement, is doing great things for the garden. Sun and rain switching places with gay abandon, (far too fast for me to keep up with the summer/winter clothes conundrum- should it be strappy top or thermal vest this morning?). But sun and rain is good for plants. If we can just hold off the frost all should be well bedded in for the summer. Ah the English summer, that one day of glorious sunshine when can you can drag out the deckchair (well you probably can, mine tragically rotted in the last waterlogged August), fire up the Barbie, pour the Pimms and relax back surveying the bounty of nature.
And this year I am particularly fired up on the gardening front as I was lucky enough to get to the Chelsea Flower Show. It was everything I had hoped, and then some. If you get a chance you must go. And I so fitted in, it was awash with women d’un certain age, like myself. This was a tremendous help as it was busy and the one thing you can say about the older person is we understand queuing. Standing in front of the little artisan gardens – I thought we would never get in close. ‘Just relax and weave’ advised my friend Jane, a veteran of Chelsea. But it was never a problem, manners triumphed. This was not a mosh pit. People looked, snapped their photos and fell back with grace and murmured apologies.