It's just so lighthearted reading full of good ideas based on long time gardening experience and of course witty remarks about the relationship with her husband, their disagreements and who actually got it right. When Margery's voice emerges on its own, questioning or ignoring Walter's pronouncements, the book is at its most endearing. It is written in a lovely informal style discussing her successes and failures as she created her garden.

Probably the least popular review on my blog, which still draws ire to this day, is Elizabeth West’s Hovel in the Hills, which I disliked because she had no sense of humour and really just wanted to record how wonderful she was. My favorite moment is Margery's description of how she ignored Walter's beloved (and garish) dahlias after his death. As others have said before, this book reveals not just the story of making a garden but also a somewhat disturbing portrait of a seemingly unbalanced marriage. Intrigued and excited, I ran to a neighbour’s, borrowed a sledgehammer and, Thor-like, pounded a hole through the only wall, in an under-stair cupboard, which could possibly conceal a staircase. getting lost) On a chilly-sunny March morning, we pulled into the small carpark at Overton Hill and the start of The Ridgeway.

Seller has stated it will dispatch the item within 1 working day upon receipt of cleared payment - opens in a new window or tab . Yes, she absolutely does have a sense of humour, particularly over her own mistakes – such an attractive trait in both life and writing! She is writing this book after his death and can barely repress her delight at finally being able to plant certain things he had always forbidden her. It made me incredibly sad that her husband’s strong opinions on gardening clashed so much with her own. Over the next few weeks, I levered up every brick from the non-cemented floor and carried them up the stairs, through the kitchen and all the way out to the back garden.

To become a subscriber to Slightly Foxed: The Real Reader’s Quarterly Magazine, please visit our subscriptions page.I am a novice gardener and the vast array of latin names for plants that I don't recognize was not really helpful to my objective.

The hornbeam came as whips, the yew as large pot-bound trees – bought cheaply second hand – and neither took long to establish and provide some privacy against the nosey folk.Well, it wasn't much help as a source of practical inspiration, to be honest, but I enjoyed basking in the warmth of her love for all things green, anyway, and that was a kind of inspiration to take more care of the poor neglected patch of muck. Still, I feel for Walter, wanting to have his own preferences and experiences considered – after all, it was his garden too. When I went back to work full time and then with my mother's illness, the garden was mostly neglected. I do dream of finding extra rooms in the various houses I lived in – have read that it’s not uncommon, but no idea what it means.

Her good sense, practical knowledge and imaginative ideas will encourage and inspire gardeners everywhere. Gardening books are always wonderful and, as ever, I came away with notes of new plants to try and new techniques. Her many articles and books inspired garden enthusiasts with her easy read knowledge and observation.Margery clearly won the bulk of the battles even in the earlier years but it must have been much easier after his death. She’d complained about it, apparently, to no avail but we soon discovered the source and it was easy enough to fix – had the unpleasant London Company bothered to help their elderly, sickly tenant. But, as her health deteriorated, tending a big kitchen garden became too much for her and the plot slipped into neglect. We knocked out the bricked-up window and dug out clay to a further depth of twelve inches, passing it out through the window to a waiting skip. Fresh starts, hidden rooms, difficulties that turn into assets, wicked landlords, fairy godmothers who compost.