If you are doing something
do it properly.
Or not at all.
And so I find myself
heading out from west Bristol to leafy Langford in North Somerset with the 2 city studio divas on board.
It is their annual trip for their check up and jabs. These two pampered cats, rescued from feral, alley cat obscurity, ignore the intended treat-full nature of the experience and treat me to a barrage of high c’s and plaintive mews for all of the 15 miles there. Really, the screechiest contestent on The Voice has nothing on these 2.
Surely, you say, there are nearer vets? Well, I have long despaired of Bristol’s vets and once when I had a diabetic cat I discovered that the University’s veterinary school in Langford takes out patients. I have taken cats there ever since. The trick is that if you organise a really early appointment you don’t see the students at all. The tutors deal with them and it is the equivalent of a trip to a Harley Street specialist!
The tutor’s bedside manner is exceptional. He admires their glossy coats, chuck them beneath the chin and skilfully seeks out their erogenous zones. They are all purring docility, deceitfully implying that the pleasure is all theirs and that it is I am who am tense.
The jabs they scarcely register. Even when their temperatures are being taken (yes, up there) they look brave. I feel a glow of pride. Their bodies are deftly felt for suspicious lumps and bumps. Nothing is found and job done we turn for home. Truth to tell we are all relieved.
As I drive out I gratefully snap the verges through the windscreen. Well, I am a garden designer aren’t I?
They are banked with masses of daffs. Tete a tetes. Warming, comfortingly rich, egg yolk yellow. As glorious as the mild spring day itself. And I do mean masses.
This is very much the point with bulbs. No casual, tentative sprinkle.
Nothing succeeds like excess.
Of course if they are happy they will bulk up, but how long does that take? We are the have it now, have it all society. So whatever number you first thought of double it. And then double it again.
Back on gracious Worcester Terrace in up town Clifton
this brimming pot-full of February Golds catches my eye. Its the masses rule again and the all one variety rule. I call it conviction planting.
It is a generous statement. And this is what you get from a garden designer. The conviction to repeat generously.
The same could also be said of line and space within garden design. Once carefully thought out, commitment to strength and even exaggeration of line and generosity of space is what separates the McCoy from the also-rans.
Oh and the intangible je ne sais quoi.
So enjoy the spring flowers……. and in the autumn, come bulb buying time, think masses!
R
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