A visit to the garden centre is on the itinerary today. The goal to purchase primulas, stand next to scented candles loudly exclaiming “They smell good, but they’re bloody expensive!” and price an innovative new lawnmower powered by middle aged cynicism.
My intention is to amalgamate the primulas with the daffs, tulips and bluebells to provide a synergy of spring colour dans mon jardin. The quartet a kaleidoscopic warm up act, prior to the big gun perennials arriving in May. The emergence of later colour hopefully producing five months of ever more striking horticultural beauty.
Although we always inquisitively look through the imaginatively named scented wax ornaments, we never buy what we deem as overly expensive candles.
Sniffing candle aromas, such as ‘Newly Baked Hovis’, ‘Capricious Hyacinth’ and ‘Piers Morgan’s Ego’, has become as much a part of our garden centre habit as seeking perennial plants that flourish in clay based soil.
These are generally pleasant scents to calm the most troubled of souls, designed to create an ambience of serenity in whichever chamber they reside.
That being said, my wife and I reckon a Faustian selling of out our souls to Beelzebub, in return for calm inducing scent infusers isn’t a deal worth countenancing.
You could argue, if I made a pact with the devil at least I’d always have the means to light the fragrant candles in the fiery caverns of hell. Which I couldn’t dispute, however i’d counter “Would satan want his vestibule reeking of ‘Piers Morgan’s Ego”?……. Although one day there’s a chance it will come to pass anyway.
When in situ at the garden centre, we will no doubt indulge in a sojourn to the café for a pot of tea and the ritual sharing of a toasted teacake. This generally occurs as a calming strategy, after the shock of seeing the exorbitant prices of the scented wax ornaments and the innovative new lawnmowers powered by middle aged cynicism.
Admittedly, I leave myself open to accusations of being as ‘tight as a fish’s ass’ by only purchasing the one teacake to share with my betrothed.
It doesn’t paint a picture of my munificence, although I’d argue that my behaviour is a due the sage like teachings of my Scottish forefathers, who taught “Many a Mickle maks a Muckle.”
I believe this fiscal indoctrination translates into English language of a less colloquial nature as “Look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves.”
I’m not aware of any words of wisdom in Caledonian folklore advising what results from taking care of the Muckles……. But they are a nice family, so I already treat them with the respect and friendship they deserve.
I’m pretty certain “Many a Mickle maks a Muckle” is a Scottish saying that endorses monetary caution. However, my random mind has just had an epiphany that it may translate into English as “Many a Michael makes a Muchael.”
Words teaching us the collective noun for a congregation of Michaels is a Muchael…… I doubt it but, as with all things, I like to keep an open mind.
Refreshed after our cuppas, Karen and me will head outside to the plant nursery to select primulas, which will provide much needed chromaticity to our garden.
A resilient plant, primulas provide a cornucopia of colour via pot and border. Their hardiness puts to shame the more diva like plants, who aren’t prepared to countenance an appearance until it hits around 18-20 degrees Celsius outside.
Right, I’m going to psyche myself up for our garden centre jaunt, where once again I’ll experience the excitement of smelling ‘Piers Morgan’s Ego’.
