Yes it’s Chernobyl for worms, but we love it
THEY are to horticulture what microwaves are to haute cuisine or what Twitter is to rational debate. But I am afraid I don’t care.
It is now seven years since we opted for fake grass and we have not regretted it once. That and the trampoline have probably been our two best investments since moving in to our current home. Both have remained in pretty much constant use ever since.
But whereas the trampoline is starting to look rusty around the edges, the evergreen lawn beneath it looks as verdant as the day it was rolled out in 2013.
Lawn snobs (family members included) have scoffed at the naffness of it. However, they have not had to live with three young children all finding different ways to amuse themselves in a small urban garden.
When we moved in, the girls were six and four and my one-year-old son was learning to walk. He now has several football kits and footballs which he likes to hoof at a portable goal for hours on end.
If this were real grass, it would be a quagmire in winter and a dirt track in summer. Instead, it is Wembley every day. And when he’s not looking, the girls stick up a badminton net or paddling pool instead. During lockdown, it has been a case of plastic fantastic.
True, this bogus turf may be Chernobyl for worms and moles, but the trees and shrubs in the surrounding beds are in the rudest health, aided by our garden compost.
The only downside is that no grass means no need for a mower and therefore no need for the one thing I do miss — a shed where I could sit and write articles like this in peace and quiet.