What happened to all that ‘ivy never sere’?

People have mixed feelings about ivy (Hedera helix). It is believed to do unhurried damage to buildings while artfully concealing its depredations. ‘Creeping ivy …hides the ruin that it feeds upon,’ as Cowper says. Not long ago, Jerome, who looks after our London garden, had to cut back the ivy covering the high wall abutting the veranda of my library, thus exposing the brick. This grievously disturbed my post-breakfast period of contemplation, when I look out on the garden and work out what I will write during the day. However, with its characteristic tenacity and fecundity, the ivy has grown back again, the bricks have vanished and the incident is closed. I cannot actually like this plant, with its umbels of greenish-yellow flowers and the dank, sinister berries which succeed them. Why the ancients had such a high opinion of it baffles me; it was dedicated to Bacchus and believed to prevent drunkenness.