The Secret Garden

On Saturday we were invited to attend a garden party. It was set in Hanwell on the West Ealing borders and to anyone who is cognisant with the area this does not necessarily indicate a palatial setting when the word garden is referenced. However hidden behind high fencing we came across the most beautiful and creative oasis that you could ever hope to find. A veritable poem of a secret garden. The front area was domed over by tree branches creating a tunnelled effect adding to the sense of entering another world. It was obviously appreciated by wild life as I noted a birds nest high up in the branches. The flat itself was outstanding but the rear garden literally took my breath away. Everywhere you turned there was something exceptional to marvel at. The real wonder was the size of the garden as it was in reality quite a small space but crammed into it and not looking as if they were fighting for that space were various shrubs, ponds, fountains, a Jacuzzi, barbeque area and a variety of open spaces for sitting including what they had cleverly labelled a quadroundel as it was a fourth of a round seating summer house. Stones and statues peeped out and created juxtapositions with the various bushes and flagged mounds. Coloured solar and white lights were cunningly placed to accentuate the areas of interest and split bamboo screens hid the roadway from behind fir trees. In contrast to those garden plants that we look upon as ‘normal’ in relation to the British weather, there were large cacti openly growing and in a small but compact greenhouse an incredible display of cacti of various sizes, many of which were in flower. Philip the creator of this space admitted that it had taken eighteen years to bring it to perfection. It was truly a work of art.

My friend John, and Wesley another of the flat mates had produced a very appetising display of party food and the wine flowed freely. There were so many interesting people to chat too and some had come from as far away as Norfolk to attend. It was a real pleasure to have been there and to meet them all. We arrived home around midnight, perhaps a little merrier than we should have been. The cats complained that we had been gone too long and demanded food before we were permitted to fall into our beds.

Cat has Trophies

Just when I thought it could not get any worse the kitten invasion spread to the living room. This occurred largely through the machinations of Youngest daughter and her affianced, who trapped the critters in an attempt to impose order on their chaos. The results were howling in various keys that continued into the small hours. They hid in every recess available and in a major breakout two fled for the upstairs. Youngest daughter throwing herself in the path of the main Tuxedo culprit suffered various scratches and abrasions. The howling continued as Tuxedo two missed his sibling and eventually for the sake of those needing sleep he too was released into the care of his mother.

Angel meanwhile had visited the veterinary surgeon to be neutered. She was extremely well behaved during this ordeal and decided that the cat carrier was a suitable cave to hide out in from the unwanted attention of the kittens during the next two days.

We originally named the upstairs group ‘the renegade three’. They have established a bridge head in the storage room from which they can occasionally erupt to cause maximum destruction. However, yesterday the managed to earn themselves yet another nickname. I was awakened by the thundering of tiny paws and realised that they were racing up and down the stairs. As the main house cats are not particularly kitten friendly I went to investigate and make sure they were properly chaperoned. Middle daughter has a habit of leaving her clean washing on the stairs until her brain synapses click into carry it up mode. The kittens had used a pile of clean washing to form a sledge run and it lay in confusion about the lower hall. That is apart from socks. They had been selecting socks and carrying them upstairs as some form of trophy. I retrieved the aforementioned socks and replaced the washing in a neat pile. The guilty parties hung over the top of the banisters with angelic expressions on their faces. They are now known as the Tuxedo Mafia.