Plane to see Mrs R would think I was barking mad

TODAY is our 61st wedding anniversary. So congratulations are due to Mrs R on a lifetime of patience.

But if you think that’s a useless fact, try this for size: in France, men give their wives a plane tree on this notable date.

I can’t find an explanation for the custom but perhaps it’s to recall old wives’ memories of their men going off to war.

Napoleon decreed that French roads should be lined with plane tress to give shade to his marching troops, and maybe this was the last image of their husbands. That could be just my over-worked imagination, but if anybody has a better idea, let’s hear it.

And if Frenchie can do it, why not have a try here? A bit of research discloses that I can buy a London Plane to celebrate Mrs R’s big day in 1963. It’s a very beautiful and practical tree, sheds its bark to make wonderful mottled patterns, and its leaves turn golden brown.

They’ve been a feature of our polluted capital for more than a century.

They don’t come cheap, mind you. I’m quoted £920 (reduced by more than £200) for a twelve-foot-high specimen delivered to the door.

Another absurd flight of fancy. Where would I put it? It’s all very well for the French, they have lots more room – and a greater need for shade.

These monsters grow up to 160ft. The roots would undermine half the houses in the village.

I’d be lynched. There would be no 62nd anniversary.

I shall just have to fall back on the old cop-out: “It’s the thought that counts.”

It’s worked before, but there must be a limit on how many times you can get away with it. 61? We’ll see...