The London Lady Garden

I'm staying in London, not far from Hampstead Heath and its famous ponds. The ponds were made centuries ago by damming up the river Fleet to provide drinking water for the area. Bathing is permitted in three of the ponds; one is for everyone, one is for women only and one is for men - guess which is the biggest? and guess by what factor female swimmers outnumber men?*

The women's pond is secreted within many layer of trees and hedges, these are necessary to protect the ladies from the constant surveillance they experience when out in the normal world. The men's pond is not so hedged around and is connected to great swathes of grassy areas where they can take as much space as they wish to lounge around in their budgie-smugglers. The women's pond and it's secluded lawns is the only outdoor place that I know of in London where women can sit around bare-chested without risk of harassment - of course it becomes extremely overcrowded.

I join the lady-throng on the after-swim lawns, find a space big enough for my body + picnic + book  and observe that simply leaving each other in peace and making space for newcomers, in this place, is just a normal human activity

* it's about a million to one

While I was away ants moved in under my plants

I've engaged in counter-terrorism but I suspect I might not win this one.

I thought my Lady Garden was all about growing things but actually it's nothing to do with gardening. I live at a comedy nexus, a street theatre leyline - the combination of junction, steep hill and lamp post outside my front door makes a natural stopping place - for passersby to collapse breathless or ramp up that argument that's been brewing the last half mile.

If I time my ant-bothering correctly I can watch the schoolchildren washing up and down the hill.

One group of boys comes down later than the others,  I hear them from the top of the hill practising their gangsta speak, one boy voice-raised trying to tell the others important things over their rapping lyrics and beatbox sounds. They come into view practising their moves ... head bobs, shapes with the fingers.

Arriving at my ant-ridden planters, they cluster together and work out the song that's brewing

mm chukka mm chukka mm chukka mm chukka mmmmmm

I'm chillin'    she's willin'    got the feelin'     it's reelin'    hey baby hey baby .... mm chukka mmm

My Lady Garden

This year I decided to transform the bland block of concrete in front of my house into a lush verdant garden of wondrous delight.

I started with my biggest pots filling them with compost and sowing seeds. When that was done I felt brave enough to make a long fat planter to sit on my low flat wall. Little plants started sprouting and I have the beginnings of spinach and peas, poppies, morning glory and garlic, there is also a carrot top from the compost bin that is enjoying being there so much it has put up a plume of feathery leaves.

Some people see my planter and think that I have provided a fancy litter bin. I pick out paper chip wrappers and discarded drinks cans  before I head off to the Brain Doctor's - today an ant trail showed me the remains of a burger bun buried in the soil, last week a passerby plonked plastic pots of stunted garden centre orni-mentals on my delicate babies.

I'm getting quite cross about this

Visitors

In front of my house is an area of concrete that, up until this year, has been barren. I've been setting up containers for planting, arranging my irrigation system and sowing things.

I spent most of today making a wooden planter to sit on the boundary wall, there are lots of weird joints and additions where I've patched up mis-saws and mis-screwings but it isnow  full of soil and seeds. I ache all over - in a good way. I'm hoping I planted stuff that makes binding roots.


Yesterday my friend returned from her travels and came to see me.  I left the front door open and went to the gate to meet her, we got waylaid by my seedlings. While this distraction was going on - Big Pigeon slipped in behind our backs.

We finally went into the house, shut the front door and went downstairs. We headed into the back garden and heard an enormous thumpsmash sound. We looked up and saw the bird inside the house, hitting the upstairs window for a second time.

I ran up to let it out. Closing doors behind me as I went expecting a panic. But Big Pigeon was just standing patiently by the window waiting for me to open it.

Wrong house - he said as he flew out