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We were having visitors from overseas for the afternoon and I decided to entertain in our patio. I'm quite proud of this room - my brother calls it The Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Hoya vines and other exotic creepers climb along beams under the glass roof and the flowers smell great. There are two cane hanging chairs, a low glass cane table and several matching chairs. The wide indoor garden is by the front windows and reaches down to the earth. There are orchids of varying kinds set in pots in the garden and a lot of pot plants. Outside the window grow Fruit Salad plants and Birds of Paradise, the small and the large variety.
The large Bird of Paradise has an interesting history. I played one of my best practical jokes on my cousin Frank from LA who was making his first trip to New Zealand. I tied a bunch of bananas onto the large leafy Bird of Paradise and told him we lived in such an exotic place that we could pick our own bananas (untrue). Frank thought it was fabulous and photographed the bananas to death. I knew so little about bananas that I'd tied them on the bush the wrong way - pointing down.
Fortunately Frank was as dumb about bananas as I was. I told him the truth the day he left and he never quite got over it.
But I digress. The day of the visitors I had the patio looking a picture. I got out my best rose covered china cups and placed them on the glass table. Delicate cucumber and tomato sandwiches were the order of the day. I'd even brought in a few sweet peas from the garden and had them arranged artistically on a tiny cane table. The visitors arrived and I took them into the patio - I was waiting for their oohs and ahhhs of admiration. But I'd reckoned without Ollie who had been taken 'short' as it were. He had dug a hole in the middle of the garden down to the centre of the earth. It was a hole of such mammoth proportions that Ollie seemed to disappear inside. It was lined with mangled orchid flowers. The rose cups and saucers were smothered in dirt and even the cushions had a coating. But it was the vile smell that got everyone. Ollie must have eaten something indescribable. The visitors choked and produced handkerchiefs to hold over their noses. I don't think they even noticed the beauty of the patio.
Ollie, being the consummate actor that he is, knew at once he was the star of the show. He bowed a couple of times and then set about filling in the hole, murdering the rest of the orchids in the process.
We fled. Afternoon tea in another room was out of the question - the smell permeated the whole house. The visitors were taken out for afternoon tea at a garden centre. The whole thing was not a success and I thought the visitors were relieved when we said goodbye. And as for Ollie. When we got home he had finished a small mountain. He had also tipped over the sweet peas and they decorated the top of the garden along with the shredded orchids. Appropriately it looked a bit like a small grave, signifying the death of my entertainment ambitions.
Editor's note:
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