Right now, as I gaze out of my window at the mess that is our front patio, I can totally understand why the Romans left Britain.
Imagine the scene; it is January, Blue Monday no less, some time around 408 AD, and Gaius looks at Julius and says, … “What the f@ck are we doing?Why are we living here, in the murk, mists and wetness that is Britain in the winter? I think it might be nicer in Florence.”
I am reminded of the Romans because the view from my window is, as my brother has pointed out, reminiscent of The Last Days of Rome.
There are pillars with no tops on, a large statuesque fountain that doesn’t work, half-built walls and a crumbling stone lion. There’s an abandoned table, and nature is (read “weeds are”) encroaching.
Yes… grey, damp, deserted and with a touch of Mary Beard-ish pathos would be a good description of our front garden.
It’s a little bit depressing.
The trouble is, Big Seymour and I have ambitious plans. We like the idea of grandeur, scale and our own little homages to things we like the sound of. We’ve never been to Rome, but we have watched many a gladiator film. And Ancient Rome has an aesthetic we like.
Not that the patio has been deliberately modelled on the Parthenon at all. Like everything we have and everything we do, it has just kind of turned out that way. Big Seymour picked up some random pillars a few years back, stored them for a time and boom – out they have come.
The problem is, though, that one project spawns another. And next to the unfinished Roman terrace, we have decided we need a sunken Italianate garden, where we can lounge and eat grapes. Within that garden will be a pizza oven, and in front of that, two cypress trees (because Big Seymour found a couple of those cheap on good old Facebook Marketplace).
The reasons the grand terrace and fountain combo is not yet fully functional are varied and complex.
Big Seymour, AKA Marcus Erectus Phallus (because it’s funny) has run out of sand, for one. And the pump he excitedly purchased just before Christmas was not powerful enough to supply water to the heady heights of his water feature. But it is also because there are a few (!) other jobs on the go, which are tackled as and when the materials present themselves affordably – or ideally, free!
Ever mindful of the fact that we also plan to turn the back garden into a secret walled space, Big Seymour is always looking for interesting artefacts to use, and it was with this in mind that he collected a large, square, metal planter this weekend. And if we wanted the tree fern that was planted inside it, we could have that, too. So off he went on Saturday with a couple of reinforcements (Boy Seymour and Grandma), all the way to Kent of all places, to collect it and now, the area outside my front door looks a little bit like Acapulco. Well, it would, if it weren’t so bloody grey and miserable out.
The tree fern won’t stay there. Ultimately, It will be ensconced in my walled garden – as soon as I have one, but that is a way off. I think, if Big Seymour starts another project, even he himself, Master of Positivity and Undauntedness, might just crack.
It is hard to see the light, what with all of these things going on. But the pots in which I have planted a zillion flower bulbs are starting to show signs of life, and everything will at least look better in the spring. Even our Roman ruins, hopefully. I just need to remember not to ask Big Seymour to build anything else in the near future, and to ignore the suggestion of that car port I came up with, leave the orangery idea parked for now, forget the folly and to hold off on the tree house. I won’t even tell him about the crazy comment I made to a friend on Saturday when I was watching a wonderful pantomine in the world’s smallest village hall. I found myself saying I might ask him to build me a little theatre, too… and I was only half joking.
I think what we are actually doing is building a Victorian pleasure garden! Or a mini Blackgang Chine. This place certainly has scope for some improvements and we are embracing the opportunity. But right now, it is tricky to know where one job ends and another begins.
Meanwhile…. inside the house, things are slow. The roof isn’t entirely watertight still, the decor is deteriorating and there is a massive new crack in the bathroom sink. Not sure how that happened.
But, one thing is for certain – we will never be bored. Frustrated? Yes! But bored, no. Challenges are good for the brain, and my current challenge is working out how to protect a giant tree fern from the inevitable frost that is surely due before the winter is over.
Suggestions welcome!
The current state of it.
0 Comments