An attack of bloody stupid.
We've got this tree at the bottom of the garden, next to the shed. You can tell it's a bit of a character by the ungrammatical use of the word 'this'. If it had been 'a' tree, then it would have been an undistinguished specimen that told bad jokes or perhaps droned on about SQL Server at otherwise splendid dinner parties.
Hm. 'splendid' and 'dinner party'. Perhaps not.
Anyway. This tree, right? If it had been 'that' tree or even 'your' tree, you would have known that it had just tracked mud in through the house or vomited lager-residue over one of the spider plants. (It's like a spider baby, only in a pot.)
However, the tree in question has done none of these things because it exists in consensus reality, rather than the considerably more interesting version that I prefer to lark around in. In fact, it's done bugger all apart from put up with me hacking back the ivy that surrounded it and bring forth splendid purple spears of flowers that smell excellent and remind me of being tiny because the things used to be everywhere when Cheltenham had more piles of rubble and flattened buildings. That was part of the attraction and why I was so pleased to find it lurking at the bottom of the garden. The breed were/are well known for inhabiting bomb-sites.
And like some dreadful halfwitted human-impersonating muppet I'd forgotten what the poor bloody bush is called.
Buddleia. If I'm going to have a favourite non-native flowering shrub, that'll be the one.
Hm. 'splendid' and 'dinner party'. Perhaps not.
Anyway. This tree, right? If it had been 'that' tree or even 'your' tree, you would have known that it had just tracked mud in through the house or vomited lager-residue over one of the spider plants. (It's like a spider baby, only in a pot.)
However, the tree in question has done none of these things because it exists in consensus reality, rather than the considerably more interesting version that I prefer to lark around in. In fact, it's done bugger all apart from put up with me hacking back the ivy that surrounded it and bring forth splendid purple spears of flowers that smell excellent and remind me of being tiny because the things used to be everywhere when Cheltenham had more piles of rubble and flattened buildings. That was part of the attraction and why I was so pleased to find it lurking at the bottom of the garden. The breed were/are well known for inhabiting bomb-sites.
And like some dreadful halfwitted human-impersonating muppet I'd forgotten what the poor bloody bush is called.
Buddleia. If I'm going to have a favourite non-native flowering shrub, that'll be the one.