The perils of a plastic greenhouse
0 Comments | Hull Daily Mail, Oct 26, 2006
I Used to have a real greenhouse with proper windows.
Unfortunately, long working hours and two small children meant the only thing in it was a colony of ants that refused to leave despite everything I threw at them.
When we moved (not because of the ants) we left the greenhouse behind and, as our new house had no such luxury, we invested in a plastic greenhouse from a “cheap and cheerful” store.
As I’ve never had a Meccano set, John erected the frame.
Days later, having deciphered the instructions (in pictures) we ended up with something resembling a small transparent shed.
Then we carried it around the garden Sherpa-style until we found the perfect spot.
I filled it with cucumbers, peppers and four varieties of tomato; although why I thought we’d eat quite so many is beyond me.
When it rained, the roof filled with water and the plastic sagged. The frame buckled and bent at a 45-degree angle.
From the kitchen window it looked like a pair of drunken silicon breast implants on stilts (I really must invest in some new glasses).
So, we lashed broom handles to the frame and tipped the water off the roof.
Unfortunately, the plastic had stretched and, once dry, our cats took up residence in the newly formed hammocks – the plastic began reaching down like bizarre stalactites.
The hawthorn bush, presumably jealous of the new addition, maliciously reached out and ripped the plastic walls.
The greenhouse began to resemble Robinson Crusoe’s trousers after a year on a desert island. But, although tatty and misshapen, it still stood and our salad grew on.
Unfortunately, one windy morning we helplessly watched as the greenhouse broke free of its moorings and went for a waltz around the garden – narrowly missing a chicken laying an egg in a grow bag.
It landed upside down in the pond.
The metal frame then turned lethal and the garden began to resemble an Olympic javelin event. I pictured flying tubes spearing our neighbour’s windows or next door neighbour.
A hasty dismantling took place – it didn’t take long.
Hopefully, my next greenhouse will be of stouter stuff and securely anchored with chains, concrete blocks and a couple of nightclub bouncers
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