My friend Josh is brave. He drives and doesn’t get lost, ever – unlike me. We both had the same driving instructor. He shouted at me so I sacked him. He shouted at me because I nearly drove into a post. Fair play to him when you think about it now, my 18 year old self was a lot more sensitive. Even now though, I try and avoid driving when possible. It isn’t really something that comes natural to me and if anything has become a fear. People find this weird, but I think it is far more reasonable to be scared of potentially running someone over, than a small spider that can do you no harm (spiders in the UK that is).
Anyway, as the title of this post suggests, I didn’t come on here to chat about driving. Josh – brave at driving – took us out to Richmond in the car on Sunday, found a golden ‘free parking’ spot and showed me the way to Petersham Nurseries (which from now on will be abbreviated to PN)- “you will like it, I promise”, he said as I reluctantly agreed to walk across a field of cows and horses to what I could only assume was going to be a high class Nottcutts. Wrong!
From what I saw of PN, it looked lovely. Everyone was dressed so swish, everyone being over 50 or American or very, very wealthy. I asked Josh if he felt poor and he said “well no, we live nearby too” – darn right we do! Of course, being our luck and all, PN was closed for a private function, meaning we couldn’t actually go in. However, we ended up following a large group of people down a side alleyway to Petersham village, where all the gardens were open to view. It was so sweet and I have made a mental note to A, always listen to Josh when he suggests somewhere to go, B, take my Grandma there sometime soon and C, take any international visitors to Petersham – the definition of ‘great’ Britishness.