Discombobulation

Back on Gabriola and of course the first thing I do is check out the garden project. Near the back door I discover one of my basil plants thriving while the other has been chomped almost to non-existence by slugs. Hmm. All other herbs doing well. Good.

Down in the garden I can see that Pat, bless him, has indeed added some lime to the vegetable plot and has watered the garden. Begin closer inspection.


Oh, my god, there are actual tomatoes growing! And these are cherry tomatoes, so they’ll be ready to eat sooner than they look! And there are lots more flowers on both plants than when I left. Hurrah!

Good thing the veg plot has been limed and is ready to roll, because the seeds I put in little pots to sprout have done just that.


Lots of lettuce coming along and it will soon be time to start some more.


Can’t remember what this or some of the others are. Must check my dubious filing system. Woo hoo! This is exciting stuff.


Sadly, as I predicted, I missed the unfolding of my beautiful Blueberry Hill roses. It’s looking a bit blowsy, but there are still a few buds to open and it has lots of new growth, as does my poor scrappy, survivor rose bush which I now begin to honestly believe could produce some roses this year. Blimey, I’m good.

I do wish my belongings were here from England. In amongst all the packed boxes is a silver rose bowl, inherited from my mother, which could be put to good use. Oh, well, ETA is now early August and there will still be plenty of roses then (she predicts, optimistically).

Of course, the rose bowl isn’t the only thing I’m looking forward to seeing again. A bed in Burnaby would be nice, too.

Yes, I know it’s got nothing to do with the garden project, but followers may be interested in the progress of my other big summer project: the transformation of the beige Burnaby flat. So, here goes.

Last Sunday week I arrived at the beige apartment with six gallons of paint, brushes, rollers, paint trays and, most importantly, my friend Catherine’s son Josh, the professional decorator, who is my new god.

In one very long day we managed, thanks to Josh, to banish the beige in the livingroom, diningroom, hall, both bedrooms and the kitchen.

So, this

became this.


And this

became this.

Which will look a lot better when my furniture arrives. I thank Catherine for the loan of an air mattress, but it’s not quite the same thing as a bed. (That said, I’m not sure how long it will take after furniture delivery to have a bed as the movers took the frame apart and I’m not at all sure I remember how to put it back together. Suspect there will be rather a lot of cursing involved in the process.)

And this

became this.


We didn’t make it to the bathroom (well, not for painting at any rate), but the addition of my old, funky shower curtain helps it look less dismal. Next time.

The whole week away was rather discombobulating. I was, after all, on a mission to turn a beige flat into a place that felt like home. Which then begged the question of where the hell home is. Is it Gabriola (where I’m loving the garden project, but am unlikely, when the time comes – as sadly it must – to find work) or is it Burnaby (which will look much more like my home when my furniture arrives)?

Time will tell.

In the meantime, the forecast is for a scorcher of a day, so I need to get out to the garden to do some watering and transplanting before the sun is over the yard arm.

To rototill or not to rototill?

Very excited the day we left for Vancouver at the beginning of the month to be told by Billy, the guy Pat hired to do his garden, could rototill mine for $150. Yes, yes, if this is truly my garden project, I should be doing all the work myself, but what the hell. Agree to pay Billy the money on our return and ask him to do the garden while we’re away. Am also thrilled when he tells me he can actually repair existing (barely) gate. Hurrah!

Send my cousin Peter an e-mail which includes the news that the garden will be rototilled when I get back. It’s only after I arrive in Vancouver that I read Peter’s reply: “Rototill warning: Don't till if you have weeds which re-grow from pieces of root - you'll make the situation far worse. Ground should be dug over carefully and as many roots removed as possible. Good (bad!) example in UK is couch grass.” Yikes. I most definitely do have weeds which are likely to re-grow from pieces of root (though almost certainly no couch grass – whatever that is). Uh, oh, I think. Have I made job harder on myself in the long term? Oh, well, I have no contact number for Billy, so I shall just have to deal with the consequences of my over eagerness.

Tackle my mission in Vancouver, which is to find Mike a flat to replace as his visit-family-go-to-the-doctor base the tiny, expensive supported living place he’s been renting since leaving hospital in 2008. Job done on first day: find a perfectly okay and surprisingly affordable two bedroom flat in the Capital Hill area of Burnaby (borough adjacent to Vancouver). Sadly it is not on the mountain view side of the Hill, nor is it in the middle of the surprisingly funky Burnaby Heights area (let alone in the middle of the Commercial Drive area, which is where I really want to be), but it will do the job.


Beige throughout, naturally, so will have to be painted. My friend Catherine’s son Josh, a professional decorator, astonishes and delights me by offering to help me paint later in the month free of charge. Can’t believe I found a place on the first day, so lots of free time now.


Social events of the visit include the fourth birthday party of Mike’s granddaughter Celeste – an exceedingly cute little girl who, not surprisingly, can’t figure out who the hell I am in the greater scheme of things.

For me the main event is a reunion the night before we return to Gabriola of the majority of members of the women’s dinner group – started in Vancouver many years ago by me one weekend when Mike was away and I decided it would be great to have a dinner party just for my women friends. It turned into a hugely popular tradition. (I remember my friend Jane asking me one day when Mike was going to be away again, as her husband was driving her round the bend and she really needed a women’s night.)

Thanks to Jane, visiting from Montreal, we have another women’s night. It’s a shame that founding member Rowan and Mariam are many miles away, but absolutely bloody marvellous to see Jane, Eilis, Caroline, Birgit, Catherine and Cathy all in one place at the same time.

Start the evening with dinner at Wazubees (where, I am delighted to discover, they still do their fab Oriental chicken salad) then head to the WISE Club. (Where I am horrified to discover that the smoking room – the last place in Vancouver you could have a pint and a fag indoors – is no more, fallen victim to some bitch who wasn’t even a member reporting them. God, I wish I had her name and address.)

But what about the garden? I hear you ask. Not to worry, I did give some thought to the garden while I was in Vancouver. Did some internet research into Plants Deer Don’t Like To Eat. Turns out deer don’t like lavender, nor are they attracted to many herbs. Hurrah! I can actually get a herb patch going, which is something I’m already missing from my Walthamstow garden and which will also save me spending ridiculous amounts of money on ridiculous plastic packages of fresh herbs at the supermarket. So that will be one of my first jobs when I get back. I’m also going to stick some flowers in a couple of pots, just to have some colour in the garden while I’m working on the rest of it. Not sure what to do about the premature rototilling – other than simply living with the consequences.

Sunday, June 13th: Back on Gabriola and it’s a good news/bad news scenario. The good news is I no longer have to worry about the consequences of premature rototilling as the garden’s untouched. The bad news is the garden’s untouched. What the hell happened to Billy?