My hydrangeas are wilting. The rose petals are going brown. Half the pots on my patio have shrivelled up to the constant soundtrack of unripened apples falling.
The only source of colour in the dried-up desert of my back garden is my lawn – because it’s plastic.
Our Thames Water hosepipe ban has been in force for two very long weeks, and in that time we’ve had a mere five minutes of spitting rain.
There’s only so many trips you can make to and from the kitchen filling up buckets and watering cans – it barely touches the sides of what’s needed.
But on Friday night, while enjoying an evening drink with friends in the garden, I heard the now-unfamiliar gurgling sound of water. I wondered if someone on the street had installed a water feature.
