Garden Centres

I'm not a big fan of Garden Centre, I think most serious (for serious read professional) gardeners treat them like some sort of anti-christ, they are the Tesco's of the horticultural world. For me the reason I dislike them is that they rarely have any plants that aren't over-priced and secondly at the weekends they employ Saturday boys and girls who are there for the money, not a love of all things gardening.

There is however a period when I visit the Garden Centre's on an almost weekly basis and that's between the start of the new year and the end of February. The reason for this is that they sell 'starter plants' - not the little plug plants but plants in 7cm pots at £2.49 each or five for £10 - this is Bargain City. You buy a couple of dozen plants, stick them in the cold frame until April and you've said at least a fiver a plant on the price the Garden Centre will be selling for at Easter and the only thing you've had to do is water them.

Anyway, aside from the starter plants the Garden Centre is a seriously weird place on a Sunday morning. The nearest one to me also happens to be one of the oldest in the country, it started business back in the 1950's and is big without being the size of an aircraft hanger. All sorts of people go there but first thing on a Sunday the majority of the customers are over 70's who have gone there for breakfast. Then there are the weekend Dads who don't quite know what to do with the kids so they take them somewhere they can't touch anything, can't climb on anything and can't run around in case they fall beneath a pile of eco-friendly wood chippings or knock over an old person pushing a walking frame. Newly weds and soon to be weds go there to pick-out this summers patio furniture and buy things you wouldn't dare buy if you weren't stupidly in love like pot pourri and CD's of humpback whales humping each other.

The thing that struck me as I walked around, having chosen my plants at 10 I had to wait until 10:30 for the tills to open, was the weird choice of music they play. As I went from one section to another I was greeted by Elvis Presley singing 'Wooden Heart' then Bing Crosby 'White Christmas', then Foreigner - 'Waiting For A Girl Like You', but the best was still to come - Emerson Lake & Palmer - Lucky Man.

I have to confess, the sound of Keith Emerson's synthesiser solo accompanying me looking at the indoor cacti brought a stupid smile to my face. I'm going back next week in the hope that while picking up a bag of wild bird seed I'll be greeted by the sound of Captain Beefheart's Lick My Decals Off Baby - that should give the old dears something to think about over the Earl Grey and crumpets.