The other night, when it was wild, wet and windy, I lay in bed tossing and turning as I worried what might be happening outside.
Was I worried that a fence might have blown down, or a drain might have overflowed, or a small flood developed outside our front door? No, none of these - I was completely unable to get to sleep on account of worrying about the Flowerpot People...
There was only so long I could keep them indoors as they do take up quite a bit of room. Besides, they were always intended for the back garden. Hence they have taken up
residence to the side of the vegetable trough and just in front of the plastic lorry which used to belong to Our Boy when he was about eighteen months old but is now regularly planted up with seasonal flowers. The actual position was important because I needed
to be able to keep an eye on them from the living room. I mean, who knows what mischief they might get up to, without my Beady Eye on them?
They seemed to be quite
comfortable in their new environment but, the weather forecast being less than favourable, I took the step of covering them up before I went to bed with a large piece of tarpaulin which I found in the garage. I did have a sneaky feeling, however, that this
might not be enough to protect them from the elements - which was why I spent a sleepless night worrying about them.
I expect some of you are muttering under your
breath that they are, after all, flowerpots so the garden is exactly the right place for them and why am I allowing myself to get all het up about them? The answer is in their full name - they are the Flowerpot People. Once an inanimate object is personified
there’s no going back.
I have fallen into this trap so many times. We always used to name our family cars, for example, which meant that every time we traded
in for a newer model our Foursome fell into deep mourning. I will never forget the sorrow which accompanied the sale of our yellow Cortina which went by the name of The Flying Banana. I wasn’t sure Mr B and I would ever be forgiven. Coming further up
to date, I once made the massive mistake of encouraging granddaughters Katie and Eleanor, when they were much smaller than they are now, to name the birds visiting their back garden. The very next day, Eleanor’s “Lucky Bird” fell foul of
a Visiting Predator and was lucky no more.
However I digress, I was talking about the Flowerpot People and their fate at the hands of the elements. I was
right to worry - when I woke after my restless night it was to find that the tarpaulin with which I’d covered them had blown off in the night and all three Flowerpot People were looking rather sorry for themselves. I am going to have to do a major repair
job before the Rascally Trio come to visit again.
You may think this is no big deal but what you need to know about the Trio is that they have phenomenal
memories. If I fail to refashion their exact creations by so much as a misplaced button, a longer leg, a less goggley eye - they will take me to task. They will be very sweet about it - it will definitely be a case of “more in sorrow than in anger”
- but nevertheless they will be persistent. Like every grandparent, I do hate to disappoint. On their most recent visit, I committed the cardinal sin of failing to dress up the Giant Penguin and stand him on the doorstep to greet the visitors. Oh, the disappointment!
“We did want to see what he was dressed in...” mourned Tala (elder of the twins by one important minute.) I mean, I never, ever forget the Giant Penguin. Except that, obviously, I have now...
Anyway, I have agreed with myself a plan of action on the Flowerpot People. I have moved them against the wall where the annual sunflower competition takes place because this is the most sheltered spot in the garden. They
will be safe there for the moment because I won’t be growing sunflowers for a goodly while. Then I am going to take each Flowerpot Person in turn to undergo a makeover, using the photographs I took at the time of their creation to check that I am exactly
reproducing the work of its maker.
I need to get a move on because every time I step out of the patio doors and into the back garden I catch sight of at
least one Flowerpot Person gazing mournfully at me out of the single goggle eye still in place...