It started off with sympathy for this little chap...
...a little cactus done up Mexican-style and presented to Andy by one of his work colleagues.
Prior to this photo, taken four years ago, the cactus constituted a tall blob flanked by two smaller blobs and, as you can see, adorned with a sombrero, googly eyes and a devilishly handsome moustache. But by the time of this photo, the cactus was growing out of its pot, and its hat and I took pity upon the whole personification of a living entity, removed the entrapments of commerciality (the hat, the ‘tache and the googly eyes) and repotted it, in proper cactus compost and everything.
And now it looks like this...
Considerably larger and blobbier and repotted again this year. I don’t know how big it will eventually grow but at least now it has dignity and doesn’t need to parade around in a silly hat.
And then there are these. Please bear in mind at this stage that I do not, and never have, liked cactus.
I rescued these two a couple of years ago from the ‘Sad Plant’ section of a supermarket. Whilst they are still in the same pots, they have grown, especially the one on the left, which has graduated an inch upwards and expanded from three towers (I shall call them that because it is the first word that came to mind that was least phallic in nature) to five towers. The two new towers are quite tiny still, but they are there, trust me.
And then I found this one. Just passing by, and it caught my eye. Not literally. I’m not one to have her eyes popping out, unlike my grandmother’s Pomeranian whose eyes had minds of their own, and it wasn’t pretty. But that’s another story. This one appealed because it is fluffy...
Once again, it arrived with three towers and now has a fourth growing. This one has been repotted because I believe it will grow fast and will likely be the size of an enormous marrow this time next year. When I say it is fluffy, what I really mean is that it is fluffier than you’d expect a cactus to be. It is more, well, bristly I suppose. A bit like a shaving brush. One of those synthetic ones, not a posh one made from badger hair. Do they make shaving brushes from badger hair, or have I imagined that? I don’t know. I barely know that today is Monday.
Number 5 is, I think, more of a succulent than a cactus, but the cactus gang have embraced it as one of their own. I like this one because it has that Fibonacci pattern thing going on with its leaves. It is also growing apace so I repotted it a couple of months ago and it immediately put up a flower spike...
I kid you not, that spike has grown to that size in the last three weeks! It looks like a flower is developing on the top. I jolly well hope it is a flower, something dramatic and red, and not some kind of poison dart effort that will fire off its weapon at random, probably when I’m in the bath and therefore vulnerable to its evil attack. I’m all agog with this own, on account of the potential flower thingy.
And then last week, this one followed me home...
Don’t you just LOVE the whole swirly business of it?? It’s just waiting to be grabbed by the cheeks and given a good choochie-face squeeze. I shan’t, of course, because it is a cactus and a bit on the spiky side, but isn’t it adorable?
Now, the problem is, I don’t like cactus. Never have. But now I have six, if you count the succulent, which might be a cactus, I don’t know, I don’t care, because I don’t like cactus and am not going to waste my time reading about them. But does six constitute a collection? Am I being subtly drawn into amassing cactus/ cacti/ cactinium/ cactoo to the point that in a few years’ time I shall feature in one of those TV extreme hoarder programmes where a couple of sympathetic cleaning types prise me from a house bursting to the seams with cats, piles of newspapers and thousands of cacti?
‘It all started with a cactus in a sombrero,’ they’ll say, and people will make pitying noises.
Comments
KJ
Aileen, I love the idea of window shutters! It’s something I’ve always fancied to have. Georgian features, and I love a bit of Georgian. In fact, I’d love a Georgian house, but I shan’t push my luck with the Universe, given how kind it has been to me during my life. What sort of plants do you have languishing in your bathroom?