My Grandad’s green fingers, whilst reaching down to Mum, have not extended to me. If you buy me a plant, it’ll be dead within a fortnight. But my reputation as a professional plant killer is being threatened.
My Christmas Poinsettia is still alive in February. It looks
a bit thin I admit, but it’s growing new leaves.
And a fuchsia cutting that broke off a garden plant, which I
stuck in a glass of water on the window sill, is sprouting roots and a bud.
What is going on?
I’ve not completely lost my touch though. I killed the mint!
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