All flowered out

Now what does a beer-drinking, football-loving, typical British boy do on a wet, rainy Saturday? Go to the Chelsea Flower Show, that's what!

A friend of mine got a ticket for his birthday because he's just mad on gardening, and seeing as I couldn't afford to get to Rebekah & Erik's wedding in Texas (I wish you two all the best and I hope you had a perfect day) I ended up trotting along to the show.

Now that may seem odd for someone like me, but it was quite a good event. I particularly enjoyed feature gardens with their landscaping and architecture, especially the Aussie garden with a sunken seating area (complete with fireplace) covered barbecue area (what else?) and a wacky table that water flowed through and cascaded out the other side. I asked if I could sit in their garden and have a few tinnies, but all they were offering was bloody Fosters!

The flowers were interesting until about 2pm when I just switched off - I'd seen enough. Unless you're REALLY into your flowers and all the Latin names and subtleties of the varieties, then 6 hours is probably the limit of the attention span.

Oh, and for any of you gardening types, yes we did see Alan Titchmarsh in one of those Wimbledon centre court-esque embarrassingly British "Come on, Tim" moments, and Joe Swift, but alas no foxy Rachel De Thame.