A traditional Bank Holiday Weekend pouring means that for many gardeners, though keen to use the three day window to clip, sow, mow and prune their havens, the house has become their perpetuated habitat. Drumming droplets, echoing ‘plops’ and the soft tapping of a thousand streamy fingers, and though slowly rooting into my sofa, my heart is pretty content. The allotment, my client oasis’s, my own backyard, have badly needed some life-blood, and though trips to the hen-house have been rushed and wet, in only a few days the reward will be apparent through a tide of fresh new leaves and buds.

However, Saturday 1st was International Sunflower Guerrilla Gardening Day, the green-fingered war, and though the skies rained down the first chapter of the South Woodford clan met in utter secrecy. Armed with seeds, fork and dog to allow for some inconspicious cover, a trio took to the streets. And whilst the pounding of a bassline, the roar of traffic and the truly startling attempts at some locals to pamper and preen themselves into glamorous looking ‘ladies’ attempted to taint the atmosphere, a fine swathe of sunflowers were spread across the banks and tree pits to make me smile, and hopefully others too, on my way around the neighbourhood. Whilst I doubt the orange, lipsticked stilleto’s from the club will notice my attempts at all, the coming months should see the emergings of some true glamorous beauties towering high, natural models of the world.

Meanwhile, it has been brought to my attention by Sean at Me and My Allotment that Saturday 8th May is – wait for it – World Naked Gardening Day! The sixth anniversary of this event, it is a chance for gardening folk to express themselves more deeply to mother nature, throwing off clothes and revelling in the opportunity to go back to their true, as Earth intended, identities. The Naked Gardeners at Abbey House Gardens already spend all their time nude, allowing fellow naturists and gardeners to visit their home and experience the advantages. Meanwhile, already gardening barefoot when I can, I love how the ground feels below a bare sole, the warmth, the texture, the energy. And though I may not, in a smaller, overlooked, London garden, be brave enough to bare all, I intend to at least wear as little as possible. And for those that do go the whole way….beware the prickly pyracantha, the nettles the thistles and spikes and bristles, for a thorn in the wrong place, well, I suppose at least a story to tell after six pints of beer.