I have needs, or so I'm told.

Meet Ruth (Jones of Rising Damp fame).
The Garden Fairy let me take Ruth for a wander around her garden this morning. For those who followed the creation of our garden this is the result, three or so years down the line. The stone has weathered, the bulbs are dormant, yet the roses are budding. 
Ruth was ecstatic, as you can see from the joyous smile on her face, uummmm. Santa is an eejitt. This is not the inflatable type of playmate I envisaged and dreamt of. I blame my medication. 
The Garden Fairy, meanwhile, is happy. She has taken over the conservatory with her sewing apparatus, new desk, new heavy duty sewing machine etc. Me? I still have my shed and pipes. 
The ONLY TV I watch is the Sewing Bee. I lie, I also watch Rugby. Apparently the only hope for me is HRT or gender reassignment; which from what I understand would turn me into a raging ................."Yes dear I do understand the new rules and regulations about diversity and inclusiveness. I'm trying sooooo hard." Now, where's my copy of 50 Sheds of Grey?