I’m Kay (aka Dirty Nails) and I’m a bad gardener. Terrifically bad.
Watering flowers is as technical as I get – and I even muck that up.
I’d lived in London for years, where a wheelie bin and broken paving slab were the closest I got to a garden. After moving back up North, I found myself in the remarkable position of owning one. With real, actual, living things growing in it. And I’m determined to make it look less like a 10x5m taster of the apocalypse.
I’ve been a journalist for more than 15 years and come to see the gardening pages of newspapers as something aimed at people who have a clue – who know their hostas from their hebes. I can just about make out a plastic plant from a real one.
I’m also a mum and desperately want small humans to love the outdoors as much as I did as a kid, before the siren call of the telly and tablet. When you used to squish up rose petals to make perfume and collect millipedes in a tin.
So I am getting clued up. And hope to help other bad gardeners on the way.
I’m going to weed out the jargon. Get back to basics. Share my horror stories and successes. Swap my heels for wellies. And show it's good to get your nails dirty.
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Bad gardeners... trowels at the ready.