Class conflict

The garden which came with the house was far too small. Buster — clearly a martyr to claustrophobia — regularly burst through the hedge into what used to be The Hall’s orchard. Then, unable to burst back again, he howled in frustrated rage until I rescued him. So, in a fit of uncharacteristic extravagance, I made an irresistible offer for the orchard and the kitchen garden which adjoined it. I dimly remembered that an extortionate price — paid for a specific piece of land, because no other piece of land would meet the purchaser’s needs — is called Ricardian Rent. As I made out the cheque, remembering that useless fact was a great comfort to me.

So I acquired a dozen fungus-infected fruit trees at the foot of a steep slope that was covered in feral rhubarb. Up on the skyline a greenhouse — which made the Crystal Palace look like a cucumber frame — leant against a 12-foot wall.