For the Omar Garden Blog readers that do not know me, I’m Afam, and I’m a writer. I’m a fairly good one I think, but I’ll let you be the judge of that. Now, you’re probably wondering why it is that I’m blogging on the Omar Gardens blog, and not working on my first novel. I’ll tell you. Writing a novel is such hard work. Of course this isn’t much of a deterrent, it’s just that it’s really difficult to command time to stop, just because you’ve got to write 50,000 words about one character or the other pottering about life, falling in love and that sort of thing. I’ve started a few of them, but I’ve come to see that the challenge is in the ending and not in the beginning. The reason for my presence here is two fold. Omar Gardens requires words about gardening and how lovely it is. After reading following my blog for two years they’ve decided that I’m the man for the job. So here I am. I’m like a genie, if you rub my lamp hard enough, I’ll appear! So, from now until the universe frowns upon our alliance, I’m your man. And on to the good stuff.

I like gardens. I really do. They’re perfect for early morning walks, and afternoon picnics, and night time marauding. They’re also necessary if you have a dog. I have to tell you, dog poo on grass is infinitely more appealing than dog poo on concrete. When it’s on grass, give it a week or two and it’ll become manure. Furthermore, the unpleasant scent that poo generates is lost in the general earthiness of the garden.

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This morning I took a walk around mine at about 6:30 in the morning, when the morning sun was freshly risen, and I lay down on the damp grass and simply marvelled at the beauty of it all. Call it indulgent or hippy but there’s really no better way to start the day. You forget for an instant that your boss is a twat, and your colleagues are conniving little shits who won’t hesitate to throw you under the bus. You forget that the generator’s thrumming and that the toxins it’s releasing will probably be the death of you. You forget that, in a few hours, you’ll be screaming your head off at a murderous danfo driver, while you’re stuck in traffic on the way to work. As you lie there and rub your hands across the green green blades of grass, you escape all the bull that the day’s about to bring and remember that life’s actually not all that bad.