"COME-INTO-THE-GARDEN" MAUD

Evening Post, Volume CXX, Issue 12, 13 July 1935, Page 25

"COME-INTO-THE-GARDEN" MAUD

At this time of year my ranking list of Weekend Hostesses to be Avoided undergoes a slight change, writes "Phipps" in the "Daily Mail." Proud Mother of Five drops back from 1 to 2, and Come-into-the-Garden Maud moves up to the top. In most respects Maud is a good hostess. The beds are comfortable, the food simple but good ("just potluck, you know"), and the whisky, unlike the garden, is unwatered. The garden, of course, is the snag. It is to the eye of the mere Londoner just a lot of flowers, but to Maud it is a Glory, a Riot of Colour, and several thousand words, of Latin.

AH'of which would be perfectly satisfactory if only you weren't expected to become a fellow-worshipper in this horticultural shrine.

Immediately ' after breakfast Maud puts on a sensible hat, calls a considerably less sensible Sealyham, and insists that you really must come and see the Salpiglossis!

This, of course, is merely an opening gambit. If it isn't the Salpiglossis it's the Gloxinias or the Convolvulus. Translated into Londoner's English her invitation means "Come and spend the entire morning looking at several million flowers, all of whom have names like unpleasant diseases and most of

which appear to be either.'Early* or 'Late'—though for what is not specified." The conversation generally proceeds something like this: Maud: Pity the Coreopsis Is almost over. ' Self: Yes. Maud: But the Cynoglossum will be out very soon, now. Self: Quite. Maud: I'm a weeny bit worried about these Saponarias. They're usually so robust aren't they? Self: Rather. Maud: But I must say I'm really delighted with my Lophospermum Scandens. What, exquisite blossom—and such a sturdy climber. Self: Ever such. By the way, I've suddenly remembered I promised to telephone—;— Maud: Have you smelt my Schizopetalon Walkeri? Self: Oh, frequently. But I really ought Maud: Well, just have a sniff. Self: A-a-a-h. Glorious! Maud: Yes—but it happens to be the Sanvitalia Procumbens you've got your nose in. Never mind, let's go over to the Phlox Drummondii. . . . It is a relief to get back to the club and find the antimacassars still out.