We are quite fond of gardening, me and Sandra. That is to say, Sandra likes the actual gardening, while I do all the rough work such as digging and humping stuff in the wheelbarrow, which suits me very well since I’m a bit of a rough character, but nice with it, as Sandra always says.
I’m a bit clumsy for anything more than digging and stuff, and tend to pull out the plants we want to keep along with the weeds, although I can tell the difference. I’m not that stupid. Even so, it gives a feeling of pleasure to see a newly dug patch of soil, all raked and levelled, ready for the seeds to go in. There’s always something to do in the garden, mainly to do with plants, but that isn’t enough for Sandra, as she’s really keen. This year, she said, we should have a greenhouse, then we can grow some grape vines.
That’s right, grape vines, the reason being that Sandra thinks I drink too much beer, and I wouldn’t say she’s wrong about that either. Not that I’m hooked on the stuff, you understand. I can give it up any time I like. Why, sometimes I go almost a week without even thinking about the pub, let alone entering one. If you must drink, said Sandra, at least get sophisticated with it. We’ll grow our own grapes, make wine, and you can slosh that down you. I have to admit, the beer does tend to turn a man a bit pear shaped, and I wouldn’t mind losing a bit round the middle. So, wine it is. For wine we need grapes, and for grapes we need a greenhouse.
No problem. I work on the building sites, and can turn my hand to almost anything in that line. As it happened, we found a load of old windows, which we decided to use. All I had to do was build up the framework to take them. As I said, no problem. The foundation went in, crushed brick covered with a