The Impulsive Gardener

Ooops.

I write to you now, head hung in shame. For I am now that guy (gal). The author of one of those forgotten and forlorn blogs with staccati postings that tail off to the present with ever widening gaps. The ones which put us on the defensive when people ask about them.

Proclomations of 'I have a LIFE!' meet knowing stares from friends who are all too aware of the time spent playing with the cat or mastering the art of eye shadow application. 

Look, I did do things...

Since April, I've moved twice (well, once and a half), done battle with epic numbers of snails, began a gardening business (called oh-so imaginatively 'The Gardener'. Tell you what though, puts the village post-office window competition right in their place ;), hired my first minion,  rubbed shoulders and made shameless small talk with designers and contractors at Chelsea Flower Show, taught my cat to bite others on command, fell into mud at speed (some of which remains as a now intrinsic part of my jodhpurs), sown endless amounts of salad to compensate for what in hindsight was a-lot of cream and have brought on and since given away lots of little budded trees from last summer.

So forgive me while I get back on track and pray indulge my efforts to tempt you back with pretty piccys and shameless reliance on what will probably be lots of wordless weekdays. I will get better. Promise.

Ooooonnnnne pretty piccy....