Backyard tragedy

Once upon a time, in the damp, dark soil underneath Cardiff Castle, a slender slug called Sulyen shed slimy tears.

“Sulyen,” said his lover Llewellyn, “why art thou crying?” His strong, stripy torso slid through the moist earth towards his sad friend.

“It is for thee that I cry,” replied Sulyen. “My internal organs are twisting with desire to bear you a child. But how can we rear a baby slug under these conditions?”

“Thou art right,” said Llewellyn, quickly retracting his tentacles at this revelation. “It is raining so much, yet there are hardly any fresh leaves or vegetables around. We end up getting wasted every night, and this is only summer! Autumn is yet to come! Much as I am attracted to you, Sulyen, it would be irresponsible to curl our private parts together with a view to laying eggs.”

“Oh Llewellyn, I wish I could control my feelings as well as thou can contain thine,” sighed Sulyen, sliding his slim mantle towards his large, muscular friend.

“Hold off!” said Llewellyn, “What part of 'no' don't thou understand?”

“It's the rain,” sniffed Sulyen, “I love thee dearly and do respect thy opinion... but I've had a bit too much to drink...”

Llewellyn curled his bulging body and pushed against the black, rain-soaked soil to get away from his broody buddy. But, despite his stout constitution, he couldn't escape Sulyen, who was more flexible and fuelled with desire.

“Why don't we leave the Castle and find ourselves a nice garden?” Sulyen asked his fleeing friend. “I hear vegetable growing is very popular these days...”

“But I love the Castle,” protested Llewellyn. “I enjoy getting drunk every night, and all my comrades live here!”

“We can have home-grown cabbage and lettuce ...” Sulyen's sensory tentacles tickled his mate's tail. “Is it not thy dream to sandwich an immature tomato plant with me?”

“I do love thee, Sulyen, but...”

“Then let us get out of here!”

“That's what I'm trying to do...” Llewellyn was panting already. “Promise not to touch me until we've found a good home for our children and I shall give thee all the offspring thou want.”

That night, when the heavenly shower was left on again, two slimy silhouettes crawled along the curbs of Cardiff – a stringy, stressed shape first, with a slim, sensual shadow following it's slime trail. Though slugs aren't known for their speed, they soon reached my back garden.

Llewellyn mounted the first pepper plant and hoped Sulyen would forget about their reproduction plans for the night now that they had reached such an abundance of food. Alas, Sulyen had no eye for the fresh green leaves, and only climbed the thin stem to ravish his friend.
When Llewellyn reached the top of the plant, he realized there was nowhere to go. He bit down hard in the green leaves when he felt Sulyen's silky schlong stroke his pneumostone, and knew he would never be able to enjoy the taste of pepper plant again. It seemed to take all night, and when Sulyen was finally done, it was starting to get light already. Llewellyn tried to seek shelter under an old handbag which, for some reason, had been left in the garden. But Sulyen still wouldn't leave him alone.

“Can I have some space, please,” Llewellyn begged, “I can't sleep like this.”

“I'm not done with thee yet,” said Sulyen. “I've given thee mine, but thou haven't given me thine yet. We are hermaphrodites after all.”

That morning, I was shocked to see how my plants had been abused. I made Freddie an omelet for breakfast, crushed the eggshells and spread them around my plants so that the slugs couldn't reach them again.

“We are in serious trouble now,” said Llewellyn. “A few days from now, I'll be giving birth to thirty little eggs. I'm starving already and now we can't even reach the fresh vegetables any more.”

“Don't worry, my love,” said Sulyen, “We shall go to the neighbours, I'm sure there will be plenty of food there. Follow me, big one.”

Poor Llewellyn felt like he had no choice, and followed the slender slug that had impregnated him.

“Come on, slow poke,” shouted Sulyen over his mantle. He had reached an opening in the wall to the next garden already and poked his head through it. “I think they even have a lawn, and flowers... paradise is this way!”

When Llewellyn finally reached the hole in the wall, half an hour later, all he saw was Sulyen's shiny body at the the end of the tunnel. “What's wrong?” he asked.

“I cannot move,” moaned Sulyen. “I was so hungry after yesterday's activity... I just took a bite of the first thing I saw... it must have been poisoned... I knew it smelled suspicious, but I was so hungry... I think I'm paralysed.”

Startled, Llewellyn began to crawl backwards.

“Don't leave me here!” shouted Sulyen. “It's thy fault I'm here in the first place! Thou made me do all the hard work, and didn't leave any of that pepper plant for me! Greedy cow!”

Though he could feel the sun on his mantle already, Llewellyn crossed my garden as quickly as he could, avoiding the sight of the scraggy pepper plant. He heard Sulyen sling a good deal of further insults at him, and didn't want to be there at noon, when the sun would start to blister his paralysed back.

Llewellyn wanted to go back to Castle, but he was heavy with pregnancy and grief. Though it had taken the two slugs no more than one night to reach my garden, two days later, Llewellyn still hadn't reached his home. He was hungry and thirsty and leaned against a courgette plant to catch his breath, when suddenly, he smelled something that made all of his glands ooze with delight. It was a slightly bitter, refreshing smell, so good that a mere whiff of it made him forget his sorrow.

The saucer of ale attracted the pregnant, dehydrated slug like a magnet. Llewellyn had no say in the matter and didn't even know what was happening to him when he slid head first into the liquid gold. He absorbed it like a sponge, drank more than he'd ever drank before, poisoning his parasitic eggs with alcohol. The next day, a woman with marigold gloves fished Llewellyn's inflated corpse out of the saucer and chucked him in a dustbin.

The other slugs at the castle thought Llewellyn and Sulyen never returned because they'd found themselves a lush garden and had started a happy family.

Fresh soil

From crazy Halloween house parties in Notting Hill to sipping free champagne at Proud Camden's second birthday party; from shopping for second hand silk at Bricklane Market to drinking free cocktails at the Paramount bar on the top floor of Centre Point; from camping in Epping forest when it was snowing in January to indulging in free drinks on the roof terrace of club Aqua; from writing a novel in a pub on Portobello road to working full time as a copywriter on Tottenham Court Road – yes, over the last two years, I've seen many different sides of London (and had a fortune worth of free drinks). I didn't always have the time to blog about my experiences, but I can assure you: Debbie Did London.

London was fabulous, but it's time for fresh soil. I quit my job and moved to Cardiff last Saturday, to write my second novel. And yes, I've seen a lot of sheep and mountains already (drove up to the Brecon Beacons twice), but I've also spotted lots of students, cool clubs, fancy restaurants, cosy pubs and art centrers. I'm sure there will be plenty of interesting people, places and parties to write about. That's why I updated the header of my blog: Debbie Does Britain!

The first interesting place I would like to introduce to you is, of course, my new house. My garden, to be precise. Perhaps you remember that my mansion in Uxbridge had a lush lawn, a massive fig tree and tomatoes growing out of the cracks in pavement. I was a bit disappointed when I found out that my garden in Harrow mainly consisted of brambles and nettles overgrowing slabs of concrete, but Freddie and I found one spot that seemed suitable for growing vegetables, and worked hard to prepare it for our tomato and pepper seedlings. I even remember some crazy night gardening...
I don't know why, but the first batch of toms that I planted out there didn't survive. I watered them often enough, but the soil only seemed suitable for nettles. Because I didn't want to kill all my other seedlings, I planted them in beer cans, yoghurt pots and butter tubs and started giving them away to friends. I even left two pepper plants in the office in Central London!

When Freddie and I took most of our things to Wales with the van (I'll write about driving in Britain some other time), there were only a few tomato and pepper plants left. They'd been in their beer cans for way too long and most of the poor things didn't have enough root space to start growing fruits, but they were alive and, with some extra care and Welsh rain, there's still hope for them. In my new garden, I've got a huge pear tree and a lot of space for barbecuing or playing football, but there are no patches of soil suitable for growing vegetables. So I went to the local gardening centre to buy two sacks of compost and found myself some bigger plant pots...

Debs Loves The Garden

“I know it’s not bunny ears or a naughty book,” he said, “but I really thought you were going to be over the moon when I carried that sack of earth home for you.”

We give each other presents, Freddie and I. We forget about each other’s birthday, Christmas and all that Jazz, but on random weekdays I like to come home and give him a cookbook like Natural Harvest. Because it’s a laugh, because it reminded me of him when I first saw it or because I couldn’t justify buying it for myself. Judging by the surprises he comes home with: you reap what you sow.

But in this case, even the fact that he gave me a present eluded me completely! I saw him fumbling with it when I came in, glanced at it, and thought nothing of it. We started talking about work, not knowing what to wear, dinner... all in all, it took three hours before he finally told me it was FOR ME that he’d dragged ten kilo’s of garden soil home with a broken middle finger.
“WOAH!” – that was me waking up all the neighbours – “That’s such an amazing present! I can’t believe how sweet you are!”

My excitement was genuine. He was right: this was no kinky costume or game console. This was better. I’ve been saving sprouting garlic cloves and seeds from peppers, cherry tomatoes and even raspberries (it’s not impossible, but you have to suck them clean) ever since we moved to Harrow. Because we’ve got a garden.

Unlike the garden of the Beeches, which was gorgeous and spacious and had an incredible lawn, a fig tree and toms crawling out the cracks in the pavement... sigh... unlike my previous garden, the garden in Harrow needs some work.

Some serious work. In December, we’ve been cutting back brambles in the snow. Freddie bought us gardening gloves (a great present!) and we’ve been cutting blackberries out of the frozen ground, stabbing at their roots with massive knives. Yeah, if you’re contemplating moving in with your partner, I can seriously recommend gardening as a way of dealing with the murderous inclinations you’ll both build up!

With all the weeds and rubbish gone, we’re still not quite ready for lawn care. There’s still broken slabs of concrete, unruly living things (roses ?) grow in the middle of the only spot that might suitable for a lawn) and my neighbours seem to think this is a private dump. In all honesty, I just don’t know where to start.

But Freddie does. He tells me not to worry, and wants to use the concrete to make raised beds for veg. That’s why he bought me the soil or compost or whatever it is. So we can start sowing the seeds indoors in April, so that we’ll have seedling plants ready for planting outside at the end of May. Because with tomatoes, it’s all about timing.

So, all inspired by my new present, I visited www.guerrillagardening.org again. It’s like plant graffiti! But perhaps I should first try and turn that patch behind my own house into a place that’s suitable for sunbathing.
On www.lovethegarden.com there's Gardening Forecast (! Next time I’m putting on my gardening gloves, I’ll make sure it’s not snowing!) and… this is really exciting… a Vegetable Planner! Love their advice:

“Don’t forget flowers! Marigolds planted in amongst vegetables will help ward off pests and attract beneficial insects, while nasturtiums will make your plants look attractive and you can eat the flowers in salads.”