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hasten to add, that I am not actively recommending) is an electric fence smeared with cat food.My three favoured solutions are as follows:1. Investing in a very high powered water pistol: this is both effective and satisfying provided that you happen

sink is the flowering currant with its limply hanging pink flowers. Not only is it extremely boring but the slightest contact with the leaves releases an unmistakable smell of cat pee. (I could just about accept Ribes sanguineum King Edward VII if I

I don't believe it. I am incandescent with spluttering indignation. For the first time ever a molehill has appeared on my lawn.We've lived here for about 15 years. Before that the garden was a concrete farmyard, so this particular mole

be good to state that I am not anti-wildlife, just pro gardens. I welcome all creatures great and small. Except rabbits. And maybe the next door neighbour's cat.

Scott's tree planting habits).- The Merry Hall Trilogy. I adore these books: beautifully written, light and fluffy sagas about a new garden taken on in the 1950s by novelist Beverley Nichols. He writes very amusingly about people, places, plants and cats

) and cat wrangling (definitely) have their enthusiasts, but there's something about plants that makes people bubble and froth with excitement. This can be lost on a great deal of the population who can't understand what all the fuss is about. To those of us

with daffodils in an almost unquenchable variety of shapes and colours, almost all of them shades of yellow. Given the joys of this or this or this or (almost) any one of the 20,000 available varieties, why choose a forsythia for your spring hit of yellow?It also

the hours of darkness or when you are at work: never at the weekends.May your bindweed throttle itself.May your neighbour's cat be less generous with its toilette.May all your trees grow straight and true.May all your post-digging back aches disappear after