This wasn’t always the case. Until recently it would be commonplace to find me sat outside in the garden reading a book, writing an overdue blog entry (a bit like this one) or eating an evening meal alfresco-styley (albeit in all likelihood a microwave curry or a Rustlers chicken burger, but hey, it’s still a meal) like they do in them there foreign countries. So what happened? Why do I no longer spend my time out in the fresh air amongst my sunflowers and spring onions?

I gave up smoking.

Regardless of whether it was a warm July evening or a rain-sodden cold January afternoon, if the craving for a Lucky Strike suddenly hit me I
would don my smoking jacket (usually the nearest coat that came to hand) and step outside for a good puff. Whilst I was out there inhaling all sorts of nasties I would tend to the garden, read a newspaper or just sit down and relax – I may have been filling my lungs with toxic death but at least I was outside. But once I’d stopped smoking I no longer felt the need to venture outside the back door, save for the aforementioned gardening duties and the weekly chore of taking out the wheelie bin. It seemed as if my back garden was strictly out of bounds.

In order to rectify this I decided to give may garden a makeover. As someone, who on occasion, has been falsely accused of looking a little bit like TV makeover expert Gok Wan, I took this passing resemblance as qualification for me to transform my garden into a space unburdened by the memories of nicotine abuse, a space that I could once again use to display bohemian tendencies and enjoy a microwave burger in the sunshine.

If you are expecting the tale of this garden makeover to be one fraught with all the excitement of a typical TV makeover show then forget it! All I have done is reposition the cold frame, move a few pots around and purchased some new garden furniture.

Gone are the cheap plastic table and chairs that were in a perpetual state of uncleanliness, gone is the cold frame that brushed against the washing as it hung out to dry on the washing line, gone are the wind chimes that were a great idea in theory but ultimately fucking annoying. In their place are a set of comfortable chairs and a parasol – in effect I have performed garden Feng Shui. Look:

This blog is produced with the assistance of outdated laptops and Czech lagers

Now that my garden has been transformed it is a given that we will suffer one of the coldest, wettest summers since records began. I don’t care, come rain or shine I will be out there taking in the fresh air and watching my garden grow.

Wilbur

A few months ago I asked you to suggest a name for my new plant. Expecting a torrent of potential names to be submitted from my intelligent and creative readership, I delayed the update of the website in anticipation of the overwhelming response.

Nearly two suggestions were submitted. For the sake of argument, lets call it one suggestion.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that the name of my new plant is: Wilbur! Thanks to Stu for the one and only suggestion, his Pythonesque logic proving that he had put a bit of thought into it rather than just spout out a few random names.

Stu wrote:

How about “Wilbur”

I Quote:

Clerk: Are all your plants called Wilbur?

Praline: There’s nothing so odd about that. Kemel Attaturk had an entire menagerie called Abdul.

Clerk: No he didn’t.

Praline: Did!

Clerk: Didn’t!

Praline: Did, did, did, did, did and did!

Clerk: Oh all right.

The banana is shown for scale

The latest addition to my never-expanding indoor jungle is this Diffenbachia (Diffenbachia maculata)/Dumb Cane/Mother-in-law plant. It’s called a Dumb Cane because the sap is toxic – it can cause temporary speechlessness when touched to the tongue. It is especially dangerous to cats, which is only a good thing.
Anyway, the plant needs a name. I’ve already got a Peace Lily called ‘Wilbur’ so it’s only fair that the Diffenbachia gets a suitable name too. I’ve asked a few friends and had some rather good suggestions (Geoffrey, Marigold and Stumpy are the current favourites). Can you think of a suitable name for this lovely, yet poisonous plant?

Put your ideas in the comments section below.

This is Wilbur

Meet Wilbur, my new Japanese Peace Lilly (Spathiphyllum). As you can see in the photo above, Wilbur lives by my telephone. He’s very eager to meet all of you so why not give him a call?
I’m assuming Wilbur is a Japanese Peace Lilly. I’d like to think he is as I’d then be in the same class of plant owner as Sgt. Nicholas Angel from Hot Fuzz, but as the word ‘Japanese’ was missing from his label and he was purchased from Homebase in Swindon, I think his Asian credentials are minimal.
I’ve read that a Peace Lilly is a good plant to have in a home as it is an excellent air purifier. If that is the case I hope I can keep Wilbur nice and healthy so that my lounge will eventually cease to smell like the inside of a packet of dry-roasted peanuts.