The strange death of the English garden

Gardening is dead. It had been ailing for a long time and it sometimes looked as though it might pull through. But I knew it had finally kicked the bucket when the last of the three patches of grass I used to be able to see behind my house was replaced with a plastic lawn.

Then there was a ghastly death rattle: plastic ivy was draped over an electric gate which serves to let the owner’s car into the paved area formerly known as the front garden. And that came after the arrival of dozens of plastic balls in the neighbourhood. They are supposed to be imitations of Buxus sempervirens trimmed into a ball shape but their relentless perfection and over-vibrant colour means they don’t deceive anyone. They must be wonderfully low-maintenance. So are all the many front gardens now paved over with bright marble with only a bit of hedge at the front.