I, like many people around the country, spent Wednesday afternoon listening to what may well be Alistair Darling’s last budget. What strikes me as possibly the most interesting aspect of the budget is the way it mirrors what’s happening in my garden, both in timing and content. To prune or not to prune , that is the dilemma, both for Mr Darling and my humble self. Furthermore, it seems we have both come to the same conclusion:

Sometimes the wise thing to do is not to do anything at all.

One political commentator noted that due to the state of the economy and impending election, it was a do nothing budget. Hear! hear! I agree and that’s just what’s happening in my garden right now. Spring is later than normal, (what ever that is) and several of my plants have sustained damage over the winter.

However tempting it may be to tidy up those apparently dead stems, the right thing to do is nothing at all, that is until the spring is well and truly under way and it becomes clear how far the damage has gone.

My hardy fuchsia dies back by a different degree each year and it’s only when it starts into growth that it becomes clear where to cut it back to. Several shrubs have been damaged in the same way including rosemary, Arbutus Elfin King and Callistemon.

One of my eccentricities is an irrational fondness for Cordylines, not I should add the fancy coloured ones that are in my opinion ghastly, but the plane green ones with thick trunks, spreading heads and wondrously scented flowers. There are some plants (not many) that have a quality of presence that immediately creates atmosphere.

I have found through experience that Cordylines suffer from two problems, horticultural snobbery and an infuriating variability when it comes to hardiness.

I have one specimen that has come through the winter unscathed but several others are looking very sad. I will be waiting until after the election to see if the growing point is dead or alive. If there is no sign of recovery by the time we have a shiny new government then I will cut back to within a few inches of the ground, in much the same way as I suspect the new chancellor will be pruning the public sector.

For now I will follow Mr Darling’s example and do nothing more than a little tinkering at the edges.

I heard something on the radio today that made me think. It wasn’t a programme, report or news item but just a phrase.

A man mourning the loss of his wife stated that,  ‘She is just a memory.’

The use of the word ‘just’ could be taken to imply a lack of value being ascribed to the subject. For instance, I remember a tradesman complaining about his clients who would say, “Could you just fix that while you are here.” The implication being that the task in question is so insubstantial that little time and/or skill would be involved and therefore no extra cost would be incurred.

Now obviously a bereaved husband would not mean to underestimate the value of his late wife, but he may well not fully appreciate the value of her memory.

Memory is a real and tangible currency, in that it makes us what we are and could be said to constitute most of what we are.

We would perhaps do well to consider more carefully the value we place on the different elements that make up our world, both those within and without us.

What a shame last week’s sunshine and optimism  seems to have evaporated and we are back to grey skies and bitter winds, not to mention more gloomy economic figures.

Now, I am not one for talking things down, economic or otherwise, but we seem to be under attack from all sides. The exchange rate between the pound and euro has made  importers from Europe about a fifth more expensive and this at a time when budgets are already tight.

This should of course have a reverse effect on trade the other way but, and this is puzzling, the latest figures show a sharp drop in exports. How does that work?

One commentator suggested that the snow in January may be to blame and another derided this as a week excuse.

So there you have it. Darkness has fallen once again on the affairs of man. It’s no wonder weather forecasters, priests  and psychics seem to keep so busy.

All of humanity seems to be stumbling around in a thick fog, whilst suffering from a strange delusion that there is no fog and the way forward is crystal clear.

Oh well, I think for now I’ll have another beer.

What a day!

6.45am en route to work, creating a wildlife garden for a primary school, Today programme on the radio.

Mark Thompson, the director general of the BBC, announces that the corporation is to cut two radio channels and halve its website in order to concentrate resources on the production of quality programmes. Oh yes! The penny has dropped. I have been saying for years that they need to do just that. See previous post…

It’s not just that I like being proved right. I genuinely care about the Beeb; it’s a national treasure and the envy of the world. Have you watched  or listened to American or Australian TV and radio? If you have, you will be as I am, acutely aware of how much we have to lose if we let the BBC slip away. Well done Mr Thompson, now you have seen the light there should be no stopping you.

On site in the school wildlife garden things are hotting up. Rob the Digger was heard to comment that he couldn’t see what he was digging because of the sun shining in his eyes.

YES SUN!!!

What a blinding day!