The gardener.

Just for once I am not writing this sitting up in bed. I am up, dressed and drinking the first coffee of the day.
I haven’t become a born again early riser....it’s Friday! Every other Friday my gardener arrives at eight o’clock. I need to be up by then and mostly I am.
I don’t know why!
He gets on and starts work if I’m not around....but I feel better if I am....just in case.
This morning he was ten minutes late. This has never happened before and it really doesn’t matter to me, he more than makes up for it once he arrives He is an honourable man so he’ll do an extra ten minutes at the end by his own choice . I would never expect him to do this...but he does.
I am still paying him the same amount of money as he got when he started working for David. I have asked him if it should have gone up after twenty years but he just grins and shakes his head. So I give him bonuses from time to time...always cash in hand as he doesn’t have a bank account....he says.
He is old, has two sisters one of whom was a school governor with me at the village school.
He keeps me in touch with what is happening in the village whilst I give him his snap.
Often we sit outside but last winter in terrible weather I invited him into the house. He just grins and gets on with everything with good will but he hadn’t realised how much I can see from my sitting room upstairs. Since then he’s been careful to keep the height of the hedge down .
I am very lucky to have him...he has transformed my field into a garden week by week.
He also keeps me in touch with the village gossip...not so much as to be embarrassing but enough. He speaks of events and people from years ago as well, especially David and his first wife. I have learned a lot about them as well as other members of this community...it was the first sign that I was accepted and. not viewed as a "comer in"
He is a treasure , one to be valued and respected...and I do.


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