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A Surreal Blether
Ever
have a "surreal" day?
Saturday afternoon and not much going on. Dismal weather too. Time
to visit a Garden Centre, to take an amble amidst the horticultural blooms and
the gardening accessories, followed by coffee and cake in a nearby café. Why
not?
A grand idea. Now there's a Garden Superstore a mile or so out of town, at
the retail park. Not been there for a while, I mused, so this would suffice. Do
some food shopping at the same time, buy a CD from the music shop ('Bruce
MacGregor' or 'Blazing Fiddles'), a bag of chewy dog bones from the pet shop and
maybe - just maybe - substitute my earlier notion of coffee and cake for a
burger and chips from one of the fast food outlets instead. Handy, aren't
they, these retail parks? Very convenient. Everything on tap, all in the same
place.
So I parked the 'people carrier' (very posh, I know, but ideal for transporting
goats, hay, plants, children and gardening equipment) and headed for the Garden
Superstore. Now while I was pottering about, checking the price of compost,
inspecting the perennials, that sort of thing, I was approached by an elderly
lady who engaged me in conversation, a conversation that went something like
this:
"I want compost, young man. I want that big bag over
there."
"Do you need help?" I asked, a trifle stunned by
such directness.
"Of course I need help," she snapped. "I can't
carry it myself."
Her attitude left much to be desired, but despite this I gave her a helping hand
anyway. A short while later - having returned to the shop - an elderly
gentleman laid a hand on my shoulder (very impertinent) and engaged me in a
conversation as well: something along the following lines:
"How does this biodegradable coconut coir compost work
then?"
"I don't know," I replied
"You don't know," he retorted. "You sell
the stuff and you don't
know. Not good enough."
And then the penny dropped. I was wearing faded jeans and a dark green t-shirt,
the same as the staff here except for a barely visible logo below the right
shoulder. As the irritable old gentleman took off in the direction of the
hand-decorated pots, I chuckled quietly to myself. After this experience,
I decided, I wouldn't fancy being a shop assistant, not if this was the attitude
regularly adopted by the customers. Undoubtedly a thick skin and a sense of
humour are necessary pre-requisites for this sort of job.
My stomach told me that it was time for food, so I traversed the car park to one
of the places that sold burger and chips - a 'Burger and Chips' place - where I
was pleasantly informed by a man in a brightly coloured hat that today was
'Special Offer' day - simply collect four cereal packet tokens, recite The
Lord's Prayer backwards, stand on one leg with a finger up your nose (all at the
same time, mind) and qualify for a free donut with accompanying toffee sauce
(but only between the hours of nine and ten in the morning - something called a
'happy hour'). Alternatively, present an empty packet of non-biological washing
powder (5.4kg size) and a receipt for a well known brand of toilet roll (nine
pack, quilted) at the counter to receive a free 'Demented Harry' (a soft drink
apparently).
Surely
this was a wind up?
A
5.4kg packet of washing powder is very large, is it not? Not the sort of
thing that you would normally buy for the average family, and most definitely a
reinforced trolley item, not a basket one? Now I know that gardener's are prone
to exaggeration - aren't we all? (Cucumbers the size of cricket bats, tomatoes
as big as footballs, grapes like melons, that sort of thing). But this was
taking things a bit too far if you ask me. Ridiculous in fact. Obviously
it was time for home, time for a cheese and lettuce sandwich in the sanity of my
own kitchen, then a dignified retreat to the polytunnel to contemplate my navel.
So that's what I did - home, sandwich, polytunnel, navel.
What a "surreal" day.
(Copyright: Patrick Vickery)
OTHER BLETHERS!
A
Tomato Blether - January, 2002
A
Tree Blether - February, 2002
A
Hare Blether - March, 2002
A
Slug Blether - May, 2002
A
Goat Blether - June, 2002
A Half-Man, Half-Garden Blether - July, 2002
A Blaze Blether - August, 2002
An Inanimate Object Blether - September, 2002
A Notable Quotable Blether - October, 2002
A Plant Blether - November, 2002
A Compost Blether - December, 2002
A Copper Beech Blether (or a chainsaw pruning!) - January,
2003
A Heron Blether - February, 2003
A Bergenia Blether - March, 2003
A Rose Blether - April, 2003
A Critter Blether - August, 2003
Blether Home
 Patrick Vickery is a garden
writer who lives in the Scottish Highlands. He runs a small perennial
plant nursery and has one book published to date: 'In Pursuit Of Perennial
Profit - The Pot Of Gold At The Bottom Of The Garden' (Capall Bann Publishers.
ISBN: 186163 1480), a 'How To' book about the propagation of hardy perennial
plants in an environmentally friendly way, and how to make your garden productive in a variety of ways for both expert and
gardening enthusiasts alike - at minimum cost and in an innovative and exciting
way. And - of course - how to sell the plants you grow (should you wish to) to
raise money (not a fortune) for yourself or a particular charity or cause.
Patrick is married with
three children, lives in a two acre wood in a wonderful part of the world, uses
a raised bed system of propagation and has two dogs, a cat and two goats. His
second book - 'Gardening Tales - Blethers and Grunts' - a collection of anecdotal tales concentrating
on the more humourous side of gardening (particularly the things that go wrong!)
has recently been completed.
Patrick's book can be
bought from an absolutely fascinating website full of gardening, herbal,
mystical, and magical books that one would never find anywhere else. The
address is www.capallbann.co.uk.
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