It's not easy being George

I hate it when we're in the woods and George suddenly stops, stands stock still and stares. I can't see what's spooked him and what spooks George may or may not spook me. For example, a plastic bag even in an unexpected place doesn't spook me while it does George. In fact errant plastic bags are the most common cause of George-spook; another reason to recycle and not litter if anyone wanted one.

Oh yes it's hard being a George.

I, on the other hand, sometimes feel it's hard having a George.

There's a bit of garden at the back of the house that I've tried to cultivate over the years. Most recently - a few years ago - I bought a pack of assorted cottage garden perennials. All looked wonderful in the picture in the catalogue and I planted them eagerly anticipating a summer-long display of glorious colour. What I was forgetting was George.

This bit of garden stands immediately between George and his mortal enemy, Bob, who lives behind us. (Yes, I know the idea of George, who only yesterday was pursued by a tiny terrier, having a mortal enemy sounds unlikely but Bob flings himself at the fence ferociously and, with a high fence between them, George feels safe to put on a macho show.) So, anyway, George successfully completely destroyed my 'cottage garden' in spite of the various barricades, including old aluminium double glazing frames, bits of wood, wire and the base for a coffee table. Oh, yes, it looked most delightful.

This week I resolved that 'something must be done' so while we were in the garden centre this morning and Husband was selecting chilli plants I browsed through some options. I was rather taken with a colourful reclaimed metal cow but then thought a life-size velociraptor might be more effective. Then Husband came along and talked me down. Even my idea of a metal climbing frame/protector for plants he pooh-poohed. 'We could make one.' So this is what we've ended up with.

A fatsia (castor oil plant). I was assured by a passing customer, who was wearing a sensible mac so was obviously to be trusted, that fatsia was really easy to grow and would quickly cover a large area. Of course, she wasn't taking into account a) that I was the gardener, and b) George. But I hope she's right.

I'm still drawn to the idea of 'something' in the bushes though. But maybe not a cow or a dinosaur.