About a year ago I wrote this post:

My beautiful garden

It was an ironic post because at that stage, the garden looked a bit like this.

It was a big bare patch of earth ripe with possibility or as the cats and foxes of the neighbourhood seemed to think, a massive toilet.

But I am not a woman who lets excrement get in the way of her dreams. I have a gigantic bottle of cat repellent and I am not afraid to use it.

So over the winter, I kept looking out of the window at that strip of earth and tried to channel my inner Capability Brown. Everyone’s got to start somewhere and I bet he had to deal with his fair share of feline faeces.

Winter gave way to spring and I watched with envy as neighbours’ gardens bloomed with crocuses, daffodils and fat-budded magnolia trees.

I was resolved. It was time to stop dreaming and start planning.

I am an eternal optimist when it comes to dreams. I approached this particular project with the starry-eyed wonder of a young puppy and the words,

‘How hard can it be to build raised beds? It’s just railway sleepers and possibly some concrete. Tis a mere weekend project.’

It took five minutes of me watching some chirpy Australians building very neat, very precise raised beds on You Tube to reach the following conclusion:

‘This is actually very hard. The ground is full of bricks and stones. You will need a pick-axe to break them and you’ve never used a pick-axe. You are also scared of spirit levels, not to mention concrete mixers. You have a dodgy back and both you and your husband have limited patience. It would take you approximately two years to complete and would probably look a bit crap. It’s time to call in a professional.’

You see, if there’s one thing I’ve learnt during forty two years of being me, it’s the ability to recognise my limitations. I am never going to win Wimbledon or become chief chocolate taster for Waitrose. Similarly, I am never going to build my own house or indeed flower border. Accept the truth and move on.

The professional was called Steve. He was friendly, efficient and had the work ethic of the chief ant in the world’s busiest ant colony. He brought three men with him. They worked solidly from seven to four every day with about four seconds off for lunch. It was astonishing. By the end of the week my dream looked a bit like this.

I know. I did a little horticultural swoon at the sight of it too.

All it needed was the addition of some carefully-sourced plants. We spent a long time considering what plants to buy. We already had a good stock of potted herbs which would populate one tiered section and three miniature fruit trees for the large end bed. My husband was particularly excited about these trees and has since taken to caring for them with the tenderness of a father nurturing new-born triplets.

We decided to split the remaining beds between flowers and vegetables and set about making a wish-list.

Wish-lists are wonderful things aren’t they? They are flights of fancy that bear little or no resemblance to the wet face-flannel of reality.

This wish-list had headings such as ‘plants we love’ and ‘likes clay’ because our garden sits on heavy clay soil. London clay to be precise – it is as dense and unyielding as a crowd of London commuters, hence its name. Actually, I made that up but it sounds convincing.

The list of plants we loved featured anything that my husband or I recalled with fondness from our childhood gardens, although it has to be said that my husband can be a tad sketchy with names.

‘I like those yellow ones.’

‘Daffodils?’

‘That’s the fella.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Fuchsias,’ he said confidently. ‘Every house I’ve lived in has had a fuchsia in the garden.’ Then his face clouded with uncertainty. ‘Actually do I mean fuchsias? They’re sort of bright pink with dangly bits.’

I fetched a gardening book and flicked to the fuchsia section. ‘Do you mean these?’

He took the book and nodded happily. ‘They’re the ones.’ He leafed through a few pages. ‘These purple ones are nice too.’

So fuchsias were added to the list, along with rudbeckia because my grandad and mum always grew them and I love any plant with a silent ‘d’.

Actually, I love all plant names come to think of it. Unlike my husband, I want to learn them off by heart and recite them like a pro. I want to know the Latin names and the common names, I want to embrace words like ‘perennial’ and ‘half-hardy’ and use them correctly. I want to become a regular watcher of Gardeners’ World and understand what they’re talking about on Gardeners’ Question Time. I want to be best friends with Carol Klein and have Monty Don on speed-dial.

Okay, I might be getting ahead of myself there but I felt that the list was a positive step towards gardening nirvana. By the time we’d finished, it ran to three pages. I went to bed that night excited at the prospect of tomorrow’s plant-buying trip.

I’m not sure if you’ve ever visited a garden centre clutching such a list with two fidgety children in tow. I’ll be honest. It’s not the most relaxing of experiences.

The two main problems were that the garden centre wasn’t set out in the exact order as my list. In fact, the garden centre actually had the audacity not to stock some of the things on said list or if they did, I couldn’t find them. The second problem was that bored children simply don’t believe that searching for a heliopsis is more fun that playing hide and seek in between the conifers. In truth, I’m not sure I do either.

As a result, my husband and I pretty much abandoned the list and set about grabbing whichever plants seemed to like sun but weren’t fussy about drainage. On the plus side, we did find a rudbeckia and a fuchsia but the heliopsis remained the plant equivalent of a unicorn. Still, we bought verbena, cirsium, crocosmia, osteospermum, hermerocallus and a lupin.

I know. Like real gardeners and everything.

We also bought beetroot and radishes to plant and our proper gardener friend gave us an abundance of tomatoes, courgettes, cucumbers, peppers and fennel along with some unidentified plants, whose names my husband forget during the short journey from his house to ours. As I’ve said, plant names aren’t his thing.

We spent the whole of the next day planting. It was hard work and I can’t say I’ve mastered the art of garden design but we felt pretty proud once we’d finished.

We were worried that some plants would die but over the summer we have watched them spread like a miniature invading plant army. It’s been really rather wonderful.

We’ve eaten red and green lettuces, white cucumbers, sweet beetroot, courgettes, fat juicy tomatoes and all manner of herbs fresh from the ground.

We’ve also grown the plant equivalent of a gigantic smile and we’re leaving it on the plant to see just how big it will become. Watch this space.

We’ve learnt how to deal with fat slugs and fruit-tree bugs, how to dead-head flowers, feed vegetables and that courgettes have male and female flowers (who knew) and are the bullies of the vegetable patch.

We have also found that cats and foxes have no respect for a truly beautiful garden and to them it’s just a toilet with plants now.

No matter.  Our dream is taking shape and yes, we need to stock up constantly on cat repellent, slug pellets, bug spray and plant food.

But on the plus side, we can always buy new plants while we’re there and who knows, we may even find the illusive heliopsis in the process.

 

As my daughter starts secondary school, these are the eight Mumfacts ™ I want her to know.

First Mumfact ™, you are loved. This probably isn’t a huge surprise but it’s very important that you always remember this. This love is a bit like the biscuit base in a Double Decker (and you know how much I love a Double Decker). You think you can manage with just the nougaty, chocolate part but then you realise that the biscuit holds it all together. Without that you are just a gooey mess in a world without biscuits.

Terrifying, isn’t it?

Plus, the people who love you will always give you biscuits – I refer you to your grandmothers, parents (although I know Dad can be a little protective of the Jaffa Cakes), aunties, uncles and even your brother when he’s in the mood to share.

 

Second Mumfact ™, you are beautiful – inside and out.  I catch a glimpse of you now, still my little girl and see the lovely young woman that you will one day become. Don’t be scared of that woman – she’s going to be a great friend of yours and many other lucky people. I can’t wait to get to know her in the years ahead.

Third Mumfact ™, you are braver than you realise. I watched you while we were on holiday, spending nearly every second in the sea, boldly facing the waves with your own brand of cool, shunning goggles in favour of shades, getting knocked down and then back up again, laughing and smiling all the while.

You’re good at this thing called life. You’re ready to face all the new challenges and adventures and have a ball while you’re doing it. You just have to go for it, my love.

 

Fourth Mumfact ™, you have a voice and it deserves to be heard. Don’t be afraid to speak up. You have interesting things to say and people will respond if you voice them. There will always be louder voices but not necessarily more interesting ones. Take courage and trust me, going to a new school with brand new people is the time to share your brilliant ideas with the world. Believe me, I wasn’t always a gobby cow – I was like you in lots of ways and I had to find my voice. Then I found it and after a while I had to tone it down a bit (ask Dad). Now, I enjoy ranting at the TV and radio and it’s probably a blessing that I work alone. You are bright, clever, funny and full of brilliance – time to share this with the world, my sweet.

Fifth Mumfact ™ – this is the moment to find your thing. Whether it’s singing, cricket or stilt-walking, find the thing you love to do and do it all the time. Try everything you fancy (or maybe never thought you fancied) that comes your way in the quest to find this thing. Don’t avoid something because other people aren’t doing it. Be brave and give it a try. You never know where these things might lead or what amazing people you may meet along the way.

Sixth Mumfact ™ (and one I wish I could change), people aren’t always kind. Friendships ebb and flow. Don’t worry about this (see ‘you are loved’ for reassurance) but do talk to us about it. We’re on your side and you must never feel silly or wrong if these things upset you. Again, I wasn’t always this lippy and I have pretty much experienced every bitchy girl scenario going. I’ve got your back. So has Dad. And everyone else who loves you for that matter.

Seventh Mumfact ™, don’t live your life through social media. Also don’t think that the people who are on social media are having a better time than you. They’re not. They’re just telling you about the best bits of their life. Think of it as a party – it’s nice to go to a party sometimes but if you ate jelly and ice-cream 24/7, you would be sick. Also, don’t post anything you wouldn’t be prepared to share with Grandma.

Eighth Mumfact ™, watching lots of comedies as you go through secondary school will improve your teenage life no end. I have made a lot of friends through a shared love of comedy and I reckon that finding people to laugh with is the secret of a happy teenage life. The older you get, the less you laugh so make sure that in the words of Victoria Wood, ‘you laugh until chips come down your nose’ while you’re young. ‘Two Soups’ in particular will set you up for life.

And that’s pretty much it, lovely girl except to say that I am ridiculously proud of you.  I know that this next step is a big one and you may be a little bit nervous or even scared. That’s okay – it won’t last because pretty soon you’ll be on your way, working hard, trying new things and having all the fun.

And all the while, I will be here, watching in awe, helping smooth any bumps in the road and most of all cheering you every fantastic step of the way.