It was the best of times, it was the worst of time

Another glorious day dawned and with the sun and blue skies we decided to head down the coast again to Smeaton Garden Centre.
His Lordship had it in mind to take a very heavy Japanese tub to them, get it planted with a Japanese acer and have them deliver it to the Dower House along with the wooden bench we ordered a week or two back.

No way said the owner. Far to heavy to transport when planted. Running a business and no men or van strong enough available. No can do.

This was not what the man in my life wanted to hear and when this unequivocal statement was compounded by the chap saying that the bench which he had earlier said would be assembled before delivery but which now wasn't going to be, his Lordship's blood pressure soared to unprecedented levels.

World wars have been started on less of an issue. Testosterone loaded standoffs are very dangerous.

In an effort to defuse the situation, I suggested a stroll round the Smeaton lakes. This was just the ticket. It was a delightful shady walk amongst tall and very elderly trees on one side and water with flag irises in the shallows seen through low sweeping branches of trees. The only movement were the ducks, mostly bottoms up, and 3 geese on a small island who might have been near their nests.

With the passage of time we have decided on the best way forward without losing face. There will be a truce of sorts ...but the Japanese tub is back home at the castle, empty and waiting.

The blip of of some variety of iris in the now black balled garden centre. It reminds me of the chorus line in the Folies Bergere.

Try it in BIG