Monsieur Oliver's first book, written when Jamie was young, frisky and still very much naked.
Much to my husband's dismay I am not Rachel de Thame sharing neither her doe-eyed, willowy looks or love of gardening. But then, he's not Percy Thrower either! When we moved into the house I believe that the former owners had liked to dabble with planting because there's some interesting stuff there. However, much was overgrown and the lawn was in a bad state having been used as a subsize football pitch by three young sons.
Now in an ideal world, a landscape artist would come in and sort out the whole outside area in one go. But it ain't going to happen and we don't have shedloads of time to spend on it. So the garden has to slowly become productive and a pleasant place to sit rather than this being achieved in one 'wham bam thank you ma'am' moment. So I will get my summer house/workshop in the top corner one day and maybe if this summer stays pleasant the fence will be painted and a more neutral backdrop will replace the screamingly nasty reddy brown wood that currently dominates.