WHISPERING SMITH Sweet smell of success

Part of it appeared originally to belong to the council, part to the electricity board and part was under covenant to the Duke of Norfolk.

Over the years, it served as a car junker’s chop shop, a caravan site, tipping corner for an endless sea of three-piece suites, refrigerators and other discarded household appliances, and the residents of the absentee landlord multi-occupied dwelling above it regularly tipped their exploding black bin bags from their upper windows.

In other words, an ugly nightmare of a site in a conservation area – or anywhere else, if it comes to that.

Fed up with the sight and smell of it, local residents banded together to turn it into a small garden of delight. Stephanie Bolt took on the hardest job of getting people together and raising the dosh through various grants and generally liaised with the local council which was, i this instance, extremely helpful, particularly councillor James Walsh, who even dealt with one problem while on holiday in Canada! Jason, a local builder, gave his time and built the raised garden and laid the grey blocked paved areas, under Stephanie’s tuition children made colourful mosaic tiles for the drab grey fence, Patrick Whelan did any high ladder work, Piers and Googie Street worked on the lower levels and still do maintain the garden at weekends, I did some of the middle non-bending down areas and Carol Anderson ensured that the workers midday wine was served at the right temperature.

There were, of course, others, who donated time or plants from time to time and the result is, should you care to wander by, the mature garden you will see now. Three years down the line and still unspoiled and an attractive little corner of LA. It was entered into the Britain in Bloom competition and some of the workers, myself included, enjoyed a lunch at the town hall.

Point here is to understand that you do not have to put up with bad things in your neighbourhood and if no one else will take the time or the trouble to help then, go it alone. It matters not a hoot who garners the glory as long as the job gets done!

Cool, clear water

A farmer recently informed me that one inch of rain is the equivalent of 25,000 gallons per acre. For as long as I can recall, many of those gallons end up on the road between the beach and the LA pitch and putt course, causing both aggravation and a hazard. I am no engineer, but wouldn’t it be simple enough to lay an underground pipe across the road and drain that rainwater directly into the beach shingle? Just a thought…

Cat ballyhoo

If you are a vegetarian, read no further. A couple of weeks ago, a fellow allotmenteer gave me a brace of wild rabbits in the fur. I set about skinning them in my garden on the potting bench and as I finished the second bunny I noticed my cat watching me closely from a garden chair and I turned to her and said quietly, ‘Next…’ She must have been watching those wonderful shepherd Specsavers ads on telly because she was off that chair like a rocket, over the wall and 20 feet up my neighbour’s plum tree almost as the word left my mouth...