Forgetmenots, Chelsea, Demonstrating and solo parenting🤷♀️
Hello Friends!
I didn't manage to do a newsletter last week (several, very boring reasons). I want to welcome all of you new readers (lots of you!) I have no idea where you've all come from but I'm so happy you've chosen to open your inbox to me. The deal here is that I give you a run-down of all my five minute forays over the week, along with some other bits and bobs (not very much to do with gardening) which you may want to skim, (politely) over!
Here goes
Monday
Last week was tricky because I've been having issues with bodily pain. It horrible and scary, but most of all it's bloody frustrating and boring, because it means I can't do the things I want to do. Things have improved, but not completely, so today's gardening is not just a feast for my soul, but also, crucially, ILL-ADVISED and FORBIDDEN - which adds a bit of an edge, wouldn't you agree? I go very carefully at first, pulling a load of gone-over forget-me-nots out of the border. Forgetmenots are the BEST 'weeds' - they cover up all the gaping holes in your flowerbed during that awkward time when things aren't really filling out yet...replacing dark void with frothy blueness, and refusing to allow any other opportunistic weeds to take hold. And then once you've had enough of them, they come out with a mere flick of the wrist - no digging or yanking required. I love them, and you should probably plant some immediately. Anyway, spaces are created, and I dig three large holes at the base of my second and third runner bean wigwam, lining the bottom of each hole with manure. Then I finally plant the seedlings and guide their searching shoots around the bamboo. I water well and by the evening I swear those shoots have wound themselves tightly and perfectly around the canes. I love gardening, and I don't care if my back hurts. It's either a bad back or a wonky soul and I'll take a bad back, thanks.
Tuesday
I have three children; two girls and a boy. The boy has inherited my rhythms; he is a natural early riser and is happy to go to bed early. The girls take after my Rotter - they are all at peak performance between 8pm and 2 in the morning. This is fine when you're an adult yes? But children need to sleep. They need at least 12 hours right? My ten year old reads in bed from 8.30 until goodness knows when, and I'm okay with that, but the 4 year old can't read yet, and she is NOT happy to play quietly in her bedroom. If she had her way, she'd be partying until at least 10pm. But she does not get her way. Instead, she gets me, sitting, sentry-like outside her room, hissing at her to go back to bed every time her little head pops itself around the door (which is a lot). It's not her fault that she's not tired. She is simply wired differently and I know I need to empathise with her, but I am shattered, and I want to go to bed. ANYWAY, this is a roundabout way of saying that I have fallen into the trap of thinking that if her bedroom was nicer the she'd want to BE in it - yeah, I'm laughing at myself too! But friends, I now have the builders here, making her the alcove bed of DREAMS, and I have just realised that I have totally used her body clock as an excuse to do up a room, because it's expensive and I WANT TO DO IT!!! 😆 I spend most of my time today wondering if the height of the bed is a touch excessive, and ordering pretty wall lights. No gardening.
Wednesday
Today I am lucky enough to go to the Chelsea Flower Show. This trip is courtesy of my very kind friends at Stihl, and includes BRUNCH (which I am VERY MUCH here for). We head to the Hillier garden, designed by Lilly Gomm, which is stunningly beautiful, and it strikes me what I great idea it is to come and see ONE, or maybe TWO things at Chelsea, rather than kill yourself trying to take in the entire caboodle. This is what I tend to do at art galleries, and it allows me to savour creative work without feeling panicked or rushed. Gomm has done something really special here I think, which is to embrace colour and mix it all up (very rare at considered, pared-down Chelsea) and it's frankly a breath of fresh air. The planting is nothing short of joyful - ceanothus and lupins anyone? And the curtains of trickling water calm and cool the whole thing down beautifully.
I was particularly thrilled to learn that Hillier employed Gomm on not much more than whim and gut instinct...they'd seen her help out on a previous garden and knew that she was the kind to "get stuck in" so they asked her to design for them. How cool is that? It's a lesson to all of us who think we need to 'build a portfolio first' or 'get better at what we do' or, I dunno, 'print business cards' that really all we need to do is show up and show willing. I get home to some very thirsty and hot houseplants, so I water copiously and call it a day. I fall asleep before both of my daughters, obviously.
Thursday
I drop the children, switch off my phone and do a load of writing before dashing out and making some space in the borders for the salvia plants I ordered way back when, which have been patiently waiting to get going in some real earth. Shooting pain gets the better of me and I retreat. The bed needs extra compost, and then planting up and I am unable. I go and sit in the shade and smell the Pittosporum Tobira, which is doing its best to stink the garden out. I love it so much this smell. It's like gardenia - exotic and sort of UNCTUOUS. I have the sudden desire to eat the flowers but I don't.
My post on talking to children about climate change (which was one of the reasons I was so bogged down and preoccupied last week) has caught the attention of someone from the Telegraph, who wants me to expand it for next Thursday's paper. Did you know that the Telegraph pay the princely sum of 30p per word? No? Well, now you know! No quibbles though, because this issue is too important and I would have done it for nothing if I thought just one person would read it. My little girl is struggling, and I need to strike a balance between shielding her from the doom headlines, and giving her a sense of power to do her bit.
Friday
I take Jemima to go and protest in front of the town hall as part of #FridaysForFuture. Today thousands of children will skip school and descend on Parliament Square (along with thousands of others all over the world) in a bid to tell grownups to do something about the mess we're in. I can't manage a march (see above) and she didn't want to miss any school (the swot!) so we go and sit outside Hammersmith town hall, just her, me and a friend at 7.30am. It turns out to be one of the best learning experiences she could have had. We talk about Greta Thunberg, and about making a difference even though you are only one person. She comes away inspired and HOPEFUL. I fight back tears.
I can't believe we've reached the end of the week - a whole week of solo parenting (did I tell you my lovely au-pair is in Santorini? No? well, she's in Santorini.) Rotter has been in Amsterdam, so it's been me bearing the physical load, as well as the mental load of this family. The house is a tip, but everyone is okay, and bedtime stories have been read, and conversations have been had, and laughter has happened (as well as tears) and everyone has got to school and back, and PE kit has been remembered. I'm calling it a massive win, thank you very much. I water everything in the twilight.
Lots of things didn't happen this week that I had planned. Lots of edibles didn't get sown, lots of things didn't get planted. But that's reality. It's half term next week, but I am not alone, so I'm hoping to complete some of the un-done stuff then.
All the good things
x Laetitia
ps you might have missed: My favourite scented, standard shrubs for containers
How to make a mini meadow
How to talk to your children about climate change