Jaqui's Daily Blog

A Trip to the Plant Sale

When it comes to gardening, I am a flower kind of person. Mr B, on the other hand, is very much a Vegetable Guy.

 

Hopefully, we told each other, we would both be satisfied when we visited a Plant Sale being organised at a local college. How good, too, that our pounds and pennies would go towards college funds rather than lining the pockets of big businesses. 

 

This morning it rained. Heavily. It wasn't the weather for Mr B to venture out on his mobility scooter, even though our destination was just around the corner. Come the afternoon, while the sun was still hiding away, at least it wasn't raining so I drove the scooter out of the garage and round to the front door. I am extremely good at manoeuvring the scooter, I can even reverse pretty successfully around corners - I think it's because I can see the wheels which isn't possible in a car. "Your chariot awaits!" I carolled to Him Indoors.

 

Accompanying Mr B on his scooter is a somewhat fraught affair, owing to his total belief in his Absolute Right of Way. Pavement or road, it makes no difference - Mr B expects all other users, be they pedestrians or motorists, to cede to his passage. 

 

Unfortunately he remains blissfully unaware that everybody else considers the Mobility Scooter Driver to be one of the world's greatest evils.  There might even be an organisation, for all I know, pledged to eradicate the ubiquitous Shoprider from the earth. Or at the very least from Worthing which, according to statistics, is home to more OAPs ( which means Old And Proud, according to granddaughter, Katie) than anywhere else in the U.K. 

 

Mr B doesn't care about such distinctions. He forays forth along pavements, across roads, leaving me trailing in his wake apologising - with a wave, a rueful smile, a muttered "sorry!" - to everybody forced to  veer out of his path as we made our painful way along the road.

 

We arrived, eventually, at the gates of the college only to find the plant sale closed at 2 p.m. "But the leaflet which came through the door definitely said it was 10 a.m. till 4 p.m." I stated. Convincingly. The sweet lady who appeared to be, kind of, in charge was very worried. She hadn't actually read the leaflet herself she said.

 

Except that when we arrived home and I checked the card advertising the Plant Sale  I found I was wrong. Opening times were from 10 a.m. till 2 p.m. 

 

I am no better than Mr B in thinking I Am Always Right. Let him (or her) who is without sin cast the first stone. Or words to that effect. 

 

The Plant Sale is on for a couple of weeks. We will be sure to pay another visit, I in search of flowers, Mr B looking for vegetables. We will attempt to arrive before closing time. If I see the sweet lady I shall have to apologise for being so very wrong.

 

Mr B, of course, will just go on doing what comes naturally...

 

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Latest comments

26.10 | 14:21

Mmm, was it because there were '24 men kicking a ball' that it didn't end entirely satisfactorily???

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15.10 | 11:13

I don't remember seeing this first time round.... but thank you for sharing with me. You write beautifully, and brought a tear to my eyes. Lots of love xx

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10.10 | 21:37

Jaqui I think your grandchildren are very lucky. You have spurred me on to write a letter to Amelia who like Hazel is away from home for the first time. 💕

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03.07 | 22:43

Wouldn't have missed it for the world. xx

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