Richard Brooks wrote:
Anyhoo my recollection of gardening of sorts was my father being
persuaded by a whining (now called traumetised) six year-old to let him
have a go with a sickle. It looked fun but kids, let me tell you this.
Like everything later in life, it quickly becomes boring or makes your
muscles ache.
Then, my first packet of seed was the Chrysanthemum 'Merry Mixed' my old
man bought me. After sowing and watering in I watched the ground for a
while, got bored then played in the local brook.
Children? Grandchildren ? Gardening ? I think so!

) The first time I became aware of gardens but more to the point the
'grand importance' of my grand dad's garden is when he suddenly yelled
at me like thunder, his huge body casting a huge shadow on me, his hat
coming off, his sweat dripping off him, screaming
blueblisteringbarnecles at little me, perhaps 3 or 4 years old then, I
was holding a huge bouquet of flowers proudly, they were strawberrie
flowers ...