I am looking to take the term ‘all the gear, no idea’ into the garden for the first time
I don’t know exactly when the tipping point came, but I have to concede that I have become a garden tosser. It may have been when I was sitting with my wife listening to details of the lockdown easing. First came the news of garden centres reopening, then that barbecues would be allowed, as if the government was trying to win a bet to make this experience as middle-class as it possibly could. I am half expecting it to announce a subsidy on sourdough.
Nevertheless, in our quest to exhibit hypocrisy of the highest order, after scoffing at these announcements we discussed how to make use of them. I have never been much of a garden person; my lack of coordination and excess weight made the outdoors a terrifying place when I was a child. I was forever fearful that somebody might ask me to kick a ball or climb a tree, whereupon I would attempt these things and provide a comedy sketch for everyone gathered. Similarly, my memories of my dad barbecuing are dominated by the time he managed to set fire to the barbecue and leave melted plastic all over the patio, while undercooking all the meat and poisoning everyone.
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