I first fell in love with gardening when I moved into my first house.

I was in my mid-20s, with my first mortgage, and my very own back garden. And it was awful.

With the neighbours’ conifers blocking out the sun, and the stickiest clay soil, it left a lot to be desired.

Not to be deterred, after a lot of love, time and perseverance, our garden began to thrive. Even more so following letters to the local council about the neighbours’ conifers. Eventually, the conifers were cut to stumps.

First came the cottage garden plants. Stipa, rudbeckia, salvia, crocosmia, to name just a few. Followed by beds of herbs, borders of sunflowers and roses, and last but certainly not least, my treasured vegetable patch. I would grow beetroot, potatoes, courgettes, tomatoes (great in hanging baskets!), celeriac, runner beans, onions, garlic, strawberries, and raspberries. One summer I even managed to grow a singular cucamelon!

It wasn’t a large garden, but I tried to be as creative as possible with the space. I filled every last inch of soil with plants, herbs or vegetables. Where we struggled for soil, or the soil was too heavy for certain plants, we used hanging baskets, grow bags and pots galore.

Therapy

Fast forward a few years to when my best friend died, my garden became my sanctuary. My therapy.

I would be out there in the sunshine, the wind, and the rain, morning, noon and night (if I wasn’t working), tending to my plants and vegetables, trying to make sense of my sudden loss.

With few people I could talk to about my loss, my garden became the only place where I could begin to make sense of things.

When I left my relationship and moved, having to walk away from my garden was the hardest part. That, and leaving my cat Wigs behind. But thankfully, I was reunited with Wigsy shortly after.

Taking gardening a step further

Around the time my friend passed away, I decided to sign up for an evening class in Horticulture. It was here that I met two of my dearest friends, Kim and Kelly.

I had fallen so in love with gardening, that I had started to explore the possibilities of giving up my job in football, to pursue a career as a gardener. If (and it was a big if) I passed my horticulture exams.

Luckily for the world of football, exams are not my strong point. I needed to pass 8 exams to become fully qualified. Unfortunately, it was a step too far! I somehow passed 2 modules in the end (no surprises that they were to do with fruit and veg, and propagation!).

So, I stayed in football, and gardening remained my hobby.

Fast forward a couple more years, and I found myself under the bright city lights of our mesmerising capital city. London. The place I now consider my home.

However, living in London means expensive properties, with little (and in many cases, no) outdoor space.

When I moved to Battersea however, I struck gold. A quirky little 1 bedroom flat with a tiny postage stamp sized terrace. Big enough to line with flowers, fruit trees, grasses, herbs, and even my beloved vegetables.

I may not have the best view in the world (the terrace overlooks a block of flats as well as some homes which house some interesting characters!), but as long as I have enough room to grow a few plants, and enough room to sit back and enjoy this beautiful sunshine, then I will remain one content gingernut.