A guest blog from the really rather slender Fat Rascal
It would have been a good idea to have considered choosing my blog name more carefully but who could have foreseen that one day I would be at the world's most famous flower show in the Great Pavilion announcing "I am Fat Rascal"!
That type of thing happens to you when you associate with Socks. The day was both mustard and red - one colour splattered on clothing, the other on cheeks.
I had also shown a lack of foresight in choosing a seagull as my ringtone so when Arabella rang my mobile to say I HAD to go to the Heucheraholics stand immediately I had already made a spectacle of myself. Then I made it worse by going to the wrong heuchera stand and asking if the name Arabella Sock meant anything to them. Plantagogo lady looked blank so I said "you're not Heucheraholics, are you?" She agreed that I had got that right at least and very graciously pointed me in the right direction.
Once at that Solva stand everything became gloriously surreal - there was mutual making of days, I was greeted like a star, told I was NOT fat, there was an envelope put aside with my name on it containing my pen and fridge magnet and I felt all the reflected glory of actually knowing the Award Winning Blogger! Really lovely people, lovely plants and a very happy moment in a wonderful day.
Another highspot was the birthday cake Ms. B. made me. We met up before the Socks had unsnarled themselves from London traffic and over coffee she gave me the cake in a little cake shaped pot with a big purple rosette on it. There was a minute of present giving embarrassment. I was truly thrilled but made the horrible gaffe of not opening the pot and looking. Happily when we did see Arabella I had to show off and gloat so the cake was revealed in the beauty of its garden green icing and Ms. B. had piped my name on it and added a flower. Arabella was extremely jealous. Ms B. was rewarded by scooping the first sighting and photographing of the Pocket Gardening God thus scoring maximum points.
I feel slightly responsible for the mustard incident. The Socks walked past us while we were having fish and chips and I wanted to call to them to join us. There was a slight hesitation in deciding what name to use but I went for the Sock's real one and she ignored it! If I'd shouted "ARABELLA SOCK!" maybe she would never have had the fateful sausage.
Even Fatter Rascal isn't really a garden man but like me he suffers from the shortage of retail therapy in our French home town. He became extremely embarrassed when I actually bought something though. We've just had our well put back "online" (I believe that's the correct builderspeak) and I had thought that a green plastic watering can really didn't set it off. So a stand selling old galvanised cans was opportune and I dived in, barged and elbowed and secured the biggest one I could see. It had to be bought then and there and Even Fatter Rascal had to carry it. Anyone would think it was a manbag the way he reacted but he couldn't see that carrying a watering can round a gardening show isn't that strange. He refused to get on the tube with it and was relieved to find that it could be checked in with our coats at the restaurant where we met up with the Socks for dinner.
The label on the can describes it as "vintage French" so the "arrosoir" has come home and it certainly look very much as if it belongs here.
* Congratulations to Jools and Sean at Heucheraholics for their well deserved Chelsea Silver Gilt.
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