Patriotism is…

Call me an old cynic, but I believe that patriotism is believing that my country is best because I was born there. I say this because, wherever I’ve travelled, everyone says “This is the best place to live; it’s got (weather/food/culture/freedom) etc., etc.” Now, with the world cup almost upon us, I see England flags sprouting all over the place and it makes me a bit uncomfortable.

I love England; I love its damp, cold weather that suddenly turns into bright Summer or breaks into storms. I love its people and the way we do things. I love the sense of fairness even though I bemoan the mob mentality and our venal newspapers (News! Hah!). But, growing up politically in the late 60s and 70s, I came to associate the flag of St George (who he?) and even the union flag with racism, white supremacism, English nationalism and all the things I hate. I see nationalism as the great blight of the 20th century and I’m not sure it’s going to be any better in the 21st. As far as I’m concerned, “the more we do together, the merrier we will be” (sic). I don’t know what it proves to drive around with tiny flags of St George fixed in your car windows – “…more patriotic than thou…”?

Anyway, to happier things; the Olive tree we thought we had killed by not keeping it wrapped up during the pretty hard Winter is springing buds! And there was me thinking it had gone to the great olive press in the sky. We’ve been giving it a bit of feed, though I wouldn’t normally do this with an olive. Hopefully it might get off to a start and build up its strength before I have to move it into the Summer House for the Winter.

The May blossom is now out on all the trees opposite and the scent is overwhelming.



Our black tulips are just about hanging on, but the Lilac is a picture and, for the first time, the Wistaria, Cinensis Alba, that we bought after seeing the one at Wisley, is in flower.

We’re still buying plants for our huge collection of pots. I went down and supported the Gardeners’ Association – “…the more we do together…” and bought enough to be going on with but haven’t had time to pot them yet.


Ought to have a bit more time now that the Lord Mayor’s year for the charity of which I’m vice-chair is coming to an end. It’s been hard work, but I think we’ve done well. Now we have to think of our ongoing fundraising without the help of the Lord Mayor’s Committee.

http://www.justgiving.com/Charity/Donate.aspx?cid=188152

Putting the garden to bed

We spent the weekend putting the garden to bed. The early frosts had really devastated the Nasturtians and they turned to slime as we pulled them out, leaving plenty of fallen seed behind for next year. We planted a couple of new roses, swaddled the Olive Tree pot in bubble wrap and moved it nearer the warmth of the house. Needless to say, we filled the local authority's green composting bin and we can now take it a bit easier until early Spring.

Everything's not over yet, however. The Amelanchier we planted last year at the bottom of the garden is still showing its Autumn red, as is the Cotoneaster by the Kitchen wall.

(I find Cotoneaster boring for 90% of the year, but it really comes into its own in November.) The Silver Birch (Paper White) looks wonderful - a great shape and almost ethereal lightness as it gradually turns and starts to lose its leaves.

Anyway, lots of rain this week; the lawn's unwalkable on. Molly, the spaniel tiptoes around (she's very fastidious about getting her feet wet and muddy - yes, I KNOW, she's supposed to be a spaniel. Tell HER that!).

Cosby flooding. The worst is over.

Cosby, the next village - on my way to work- was flooded, though when the road was a ford, it could be up to 3 feet deep. I remember getting the Mini stuck and having to pull her out by putting her in gear and using the starter motor.

Cosby Ford

These days, it's a bit more civilised (I'm sure I've got some pics of the whole village centre under water, but I can't find them) though the culverts get blocked with weed and leaves, and there's always some idiot who thinks the way to get through is to drive as fast as possible, breaking down and making life difficult for all.