Nicotiana, Nasturtiums, and the Water Pressure War
It is hot. Properly hot. The sort of hot where Sara opens the back door at half six in the morning, takes one look at the sky, and says "you'll want your hat" in the tone of voice usually reserved for telling me I've left the gate open again. She's not wrong either. I've taken to watering the plot in my crocs before anyone's awake enough to judge me, which is a look, but needs must. Iris reckons I've gone "full grandad" this week, on account of me now checking the weather app roughly nine times a day and saying "ooh, twenty-eight again" to absolutely nobody. Sam just laughs and gets on with the watering can relay, because at least one of us is being useful. But first — flowers. Because even in a heatwave, even with all the watering palaver I'm about to tell you about, the plot has been an absolute picture this week, and I'd be a fool not to share it. Nicotiana — the quiet show-off Nicotiana, or tobacco plant if we'r...
