Tonight I am greatly in need of a happy pill. The best I can muster from the depths of the medicine cabinet is a dusty asprin and some anti-acid tablets, so as an alternative I am resorting to the best therapy of all, looking at flowers. Even as a toddler I contented myself for hours looking at brightly-coloured seed catalogues and this primitive remedy still works wonders for me to this day.
Wine glass in hand (a nicely chilled Viognier being the second best therapy I know of) I am thumbing through the spring editions of the Chiltern Seeds and Seeds of Distinction catalogues, lapping up the silky deliciousness of their varnished pages. How far these publications have come in recent years: no longer the garish tack-fests that one still receives from Messrs Parker, but filled with carefully colour-coordinated images that wouldn’t look out of place on the walls of a gallery. Look at this mouthwatering shot of Centaurea americana ‘Aloha Blanca’ and tell me you are not sorely tempted.
After bulbs and fancy shirts, seeds are probably my greatest vice. That’s the rock-and-roll life I lead. Fuelled by wine and bankrolled by my credit card I am known to be pretty dangerous, hence tonight, at my most vulnerable, I am keeping both hands occupied by typing this post. But I will succumb before spring to those luscious little postage stamps of colour that are viagra for my soul. Tequila, it makes some people happy, but for me I need nothing more than good old-fashioned flowers.