Somethin' stupid...

It's been a frustrating start to the week.  Over the past few days, I have come across various folk in my daily life who have made me that cross that I could, in the words of Stu Francis the Crackerjack icon, 'crush a grape'.

But I've been patient, polite and friendly, and this morning, I said to the husband that I had designated today as a Wassack Free Wednesday.  A day when every person I met would be sensible, honest and not lacking in some normal human function.

It was going really well.  I almost made it to the end of today without silently asking myself whether I was on the set of the Twilight Zone, and then...

I went to the garden centre.  A quiet little trip planned to stock up on all those little green things which may or may not survive the next two months.  You'll remember my garden flower beds are also known as Death Row, such is my reputation for sending various plants on a long walk from which they never return.

I've bought some wooden troughs for the garden you see.  Cheap as chips off t'internet, and just waiting for some pretty plants to go in.  Now I'm no gardener, so wisely asked a lady for some advice.  Having answered all the questions fired at me at the speed of a rusty machine gun, her last question was, 'How deep are your troughs?'  

'About this deep', I said.  This was accompanied with various hand gestures.

'Oh dear', she said, 'nothing will grow in that shallow a trough.  What were you thinking?'

Part of me was tempted to come back with the reply of the century which would have been, 'I know.  What an idiot I am.  Like I know anything about gardening.  Perhaps I'll lie it on its side and offer it up to the local wildlife as a bus shelter'.

But instead I took a deep breath, and did my best to look like someone who'd 'been told'  I ended up with some pretty feeble rockery plants which 'are very forgiving and will grown anywhere.  Even in your shallow troughs'.

It's like the Mother sometimes says...

'They're not all locked up yet...'