Gardening

I often wonder what sort of sadist or masochist invented gardening.  I mean, what is the point?  Now don't get me wrong, I love to see a nice garden as much as anybody else, but I don't see how people enjoy getting one.  You spend hours pulling weeds out and completely fill the green bin and still you've only cleared about a third of one border, and then what happens?  Does it fill with dahlias and chrysanthemums, roses or lupins?  It does not.  It fills up with weeds again so six months later you have to do it all again.  If you plant something the weeds decide it's made a nice hole and grow in it too, so when you pull them out what you've planted comes with it.  I tried growing potatoes once.  I thought to myself, what could be nicer than a home grown potato pulled straight out of the earth, steamed and served with a knob of butter and some salt and I was right; they were delicious.  But there was enough of them to keep the entire Harry Ramsdens chain supplied for a week.  We couldn't give them away.

At least this chap kept me company for a while.