Pride goeth before a fall (which must mean it comes in late August / early September)

I have a big day tomorrow, meeting someone famous (at least in my world) and I'm fairly hyped up about it all... "prematch" activity has included:- picking out two outfits (one for cold, one for warm - it is English summertime after all);- ironing my "lucky" shirt so it only has one crease on each sleeve (my ironing skills are "lacking");- using the hot rollers (not a piece of lawn equipment, lads.... its a big day, and calls for big hair);- selecting baubles that are just big enough to say "in charge" but not so large to scream "fake" (it was so much easier in the 80's when all you needed was the shoulder pads of an American football player to communicate this sense of power and self-assurance); and- filing my nails (though Fereday refers to this activity as "sharpening my claws").Having accomplished all this over a couple of hours (the ironing took the longest), I've reached the crucial point before selecting the right handbag (not too big, not too small - a fair balance between shopping in the market and going to a garden party is the general guideline) when I have to inject a bit of humility to balance out the karma.... so here I am, about to balance the old karmic forces.... deep breath and drum roll please......Fereday comes in for a lot of stick in this blog, but its only fair that I own up to my own failings....so here they are, both of them.....1) About 6 year ago, when gardening was relatively new to me and municipal planting schemes were (and largely remain) a complete mystery,... I visited Andy at his work (he was the plant buyer for a local, independent garden centre at the time). Observing a strange, ugly little plant, I bent down to examine the tag.... I was heard by Fereday and a close friend to mutter, "Hmmmm, cotton easter, how strange...." You clever gardening types will, of course, recognise that the plant in question was the common cotoneaster. From that time forward, Fereday, his parents, the close friend, and her parents still refer to the dreaded little plant as "cotton easter".... then normally roll about in gales of laughter.... The horror!!!2) Last year, Fereday made me some plant label sticks out of branches for a hazel he had pruned. Very rustic, very Rachel de Thame sort of things... Some time later in the year, we bought some new roses. Fereday was duly tasked with potting them up, while I broke out my yummy mummy plant labels.... one poor speciman had the misfortune to be labelled "Ferdinand Pilchard"... again, you clever gardening types will know that I perpetrated this crime on the lovely rose, "Ferdinand P-i-c-h-a-r-d". Again, the story spread far and wide - Fereday has the same talents as Vera Duckworth sometimes - and everyone seems to know about the fishy rose.Phew.... purged. If there is one lesson in this blog spot, I'd say it has to be that if you rarely make mistakes (and Fereday can confirm that I rarely make mistakes, though sometimes I have been "misheard"), then when you do drop a clanger, it will stay with you for the rest of your life. I fully expect my tombstone to read "Here lies Cat Fereday, who christened the Cotton Easter and the Pilchard rose"!!

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Comments

Kerrie John-The garden design Co June 17, 2008 at 8:24pm

You're brilliant! Love the way you call your husband Fereday. If I were you, would write a book. You are soooo entertaining! Looking forward to next installment.
Andrew Fereday June 17, 2008 at 9:49pm

They say that everyone has a book inside them; unfortunately I think mine is 'Winnie the Pooh'.
PRO

Phil Voice June 17, 2008 at 10:00pm

Kerrie I agree whole heartedly with you about Cat's writing and I hope she continues for a long time :)