OK, encouraged by Jacqueline and Catherine, here we go.
I have just taken some pics, scaring the hell out of myself, as I went out of the living room French windows I suppose they would be called, then wandered round to the front door, which I found, curiously, locked.
Major panic (having forgotten that I’d come out of the French windows. That’s how I roll. Attention deficit melding mightily with short term memory (especially on matters relating to emptying of dish washers and hanging out of clothes…), it’s quite a combination.
So after hitting myself over the head for a while with the idea of breaking a window to get into my own house or sleep on the joke of a lawn for the weekend (partner’s away), I eventually saw what was going on and just caught the French window before it slammed shut with the wind and then I WOULD have been in the doo-doos…
All of that, just to have some text to wrap around these pics of the disaster of a garden which I’d like some help with.
I have the heart of a gardener. Honestly, I really do. It’s just that I’d rather be drinking, thinking, painting or even fainting than turning my hand to something as down-to-goodness natural as digging. But I’d love to, really. I’m sure it would do me the world of good. Get me out and about, like.
But let me make this quite clear. I know nothing. Like Manuel in Fawlty Towers, I know NOTHING about gardening…
I’m not even sure which way round to hold a wheelbarrow.
Initial comments? Do I need to dig? Replace? Don’t seeds come into the equation somewhere? Should the lawn be replaced? And borders. What. About. Borders. This is where I am. Is it a hopeless case docteur?