#knitting monty is my new favourite thing

[val-el]

Headcannons for Superbats? classic Clark x Bruce

love how it has to be clarified /g like yes superbat classic, not medium or small.

Clark's favourite thing to do after Bruce has been working too long is to pick him up by the cape like a cat. If Bruce will not take a break Clark will force him to <3

Bruce doesn't watch shows a lot becuase he's suuper knit picky about them. It's actually a BatFam activity to start a new show and say everything about it that logically doesn't make sense or is dumb. People usually hate it but Clark finds it incredibly endearing.

In addition to that, Clark is unable to watch shows or movies without Bruce's voice in his head critiquing every angle of it.

The only kinds of movies or shows they can sit down and enjoy are the ones that are supposed to be stupid like Monty Python.

Clark is so good with the BatKids. I know it in my soul. "Wow Clark dating Batman means getting seven kids--" He knows. He's exciting. He'll be the best step dad ever okay just watch him

The minute Clark knew he made it was when Jason drove all the way to Metropolis after Clark was shot with kryptonite or sum shit and pulled out his biggest gun on Lex like "okay who the FUCK hurt my dad's bf we're gonna Have WORDS"

(Roy in the background: "'Words.' haha. he's gonna shoot you.")

Bruce is a fucking cat. We all know this. He is feral and hisses at people but when Clark is anywhere near him he relaxes and fucking purrs and it's kinda scary to other people.

Bat purr. Therefore Bruce purrs. He was super tired and somewhat tipsy after a date and Clark just hugged him and Bruce went purrrrr and it's been Clark's mission ever since to make him purr again.

They try to go to each other for parenting advice.

"Bruce help Kon started wearing makeup should i worry or"

"Idk man just let them do what they want and hug them if they're sad"

"that??? is not helpful at all??"

Kon does Clark's makeup one time. As a joke. Bruce has a heart attack.

Clark is somehow the Responsible OneTM but mostly because of Bruce's lack of self-preservation

Clark can cook. Bruce can make. Burnt Toast. (This is a song. Please listen to it.)

Bruce tries to surprise Clark with breakfast in bed but the fire alarm (smoke alarm?) goes off and after putting it out the uber eats McDonald's

[missfiggy]

Chapter 4: (Dung)Bomb's away

New chapter up of A Staggard Wild

In this chapter I finally wrap up all my mad expositioning and set-up and the boys are finally back to school!

As ever, thanks for reading, and any and all comments are very much appreciated!)

Ch: 4 (Dung)Bomb's Away

The morning of September first began in a state of emergency. James realised, while packing up his trunk, that he had forgotten his favourite jumper.  Figgy knitted it from thick grey wool for James’s first year at school. His family was so confident that he would be in Gryffindor that Figgy knitted a golden lion passant wearing a crimson crown on the front. True, it no longer fit, and there were holes developing around the cuffs. Still, James had never been to Hogwarts without it, and he wasn’t about to break that tradition now. As the youngest captain of a House Quidditch team, James sorely needed all the luck he could get.

Fortunately, Figgy flooed back to Hartscombe House while the boys took their breakfast with James’s parents in The Leaky Cauldron. Following the camping trip, both Remus and Peter returned to their own homes. Sirius, however, stayed with the Potters and accompanied them on a weekend jaunt to Diagon Alley to pick up a few last minute school supplies before the boys were due to board the train. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Potter inquired as to why Sirius preferred to spend the weekend sharing a single room with James at a rundown inn rather than in his own home. They were just used to such things now and reasoned that if Sirius wanted to talk about it, he’d approach them.

Fleamont and Euphemia, or Monty and Effie to their friends (and Sirius), looked like an oddly matched couple. Monty was a short man who grew rounder as he grew older, particularly around the middle. His brown hair faded to a peppery grey that was naturally as unruly as James’s own unkempt mop. Monty though regularly used his miraculous Sleekeazy hair tonic to comb his hair flat to his head, parting it to one side. He also had a thick walrus mustache and small round spectacles perched at the end of his nose. The combined effect made his cheeks look rather fatter than they might seem otherwise. Effie, on the other hand, was a dark and statuesque beauty. Taller than most everyone she met, her height and broad shoulders made her seem mythic, like a queen of a Brittonic tribe or an Amazonian warrior. Though quite advanced in age, her hair was still black except for a single white streak that grew at the front. She wore her hair simply, in a low chignon at the back of her head.

Read the rest of AO3 or if you are new to the Deerstalking Series start from the beginning

[13-reasons-ideas]

Can’t Go Back Part 6

I woke up early the next morning so I could take my time getting ready and get some notes done before leaving. I slipped on my soft bunny slippers and quietly made my way downstairs.

“Morning Addison.” My dad said from the island. I jumped, not expecting him to be up this early on a Saturday.

“Jesus.” I muttered under my breath, “morning Dad.”

“You got in pretty late last night.”

“Yeah, had to wrangle Justin into the car and take him home.”

“Uh huh.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed myself a cup of tea before going back upstairs. I waved to my mom as she left the master bedroom and closed my door tightly. “How was your night last night Addison? It was good, thanks for asking dad.” I muttered to myself as I drank my tea and jotted some ideas down in my notebook.

Around ten thirty I decided it was time to start getting ready. I grabbed my panda shower cap and took a quick shower before putting on my black raspberry vanilla lotion. It was time for the real work to begin now. I stood in front of my closet and flipped through the options I had. I pulled out a few cardigan options and a few more casual dresses and paired them together on hangers before holding each option up to my body. The first option was a black cardigan and a red dress. “No, that’s too dark for a daytime coffee date.” Next up was a yellow dress with a cream cardigan. “Too bright. This cardigan is nice though….” Finally, I settled on a light denim blue dress sleeveless dress, with buttons down the middle. It hit my mid-thigh respectably and I paired it with the cream cardigan from before. Time for jewelry. Picking out a rose gold necklace with a circle pendant, my rose gold arrow bracelet, and my floral print watch band, it was time to tackle my hair and makeup. I went with a simple half up half down bun and left my second day waves mostly untouched. I did, however, fix the few curls that had completely fallen out and brushed them out with my fingers after they cooled slightly. I kept my makeup light and minimal, just some tinted moisturizer and a couple dots of concealer under my eyes set with powder, simple eyeshadow and brow powder, a thin line of brown liquid liner, nude blush, and a ‘my lips but better’ pink lipstick topped with nude gloss. Nothing too crazy, just enough to look put together. “Now to pick a pair of shoes… hmm. Let’s see. Sneakers?” I picked up my old pair of Converse. They were in less than ideal condition, especially for a first date. “Not sneakers. Flats?” I grabbed a couple of pairs but none of them really went. “No. Plus I’m short. These just make me look shorter. Maybe a pair of booties?” I pulled a pair of grey heels off the shelf, but they didn’t quite match well enough, “close, but no cigar.” I dug around in my closet for a couple of minutes, searching for the nude pair of the same shoes. “Ah ha. Found them.”

Setting the shoes by my bedroom door, I checked my watch. It was just after noon. I went downstairs to grab an apple from the kitchen. “Well don’t you look nice.” My mom mused, softly from her seat on the couch. She appeared to be grading papers and didn’t really look up. Teacher eyes. Dad was sitting opposite her reading the new issue of The Economist.

“Oh yeah, I’m just going to Monet’s for coffee with a friend from school. I have to leave soon.” After our short exchange, I zipped back upstairs to gather my things. I took a second to decide if I should bring my notebook. Never know when inspiration will hit. At the last second, I threw it into my bag, along with my favourite pen and slipped my shoes on. “I’m leaving now.” I called to my parents as I walked out the door.

“Have fun at the mall sweetie.” Dad mumbled after me, not even looking up from his magazine.

I arrived at Monet’s at five minutes to one and Monty was already there, waiting for me. The white shirt and red flannel he was wearing did wonders for his arms and toned chest. I tore my eyes away and mentally wiped away the drool, hoping it wasn’t too obvious I was staring. Looking up, I smiled at him and waved at him, my accent glitter pink nail polish catching the light. He waved back and I started towards him. “You look amazing.” He said, taking me in.

“You look good too. Not at all hungover.” I replied, looking down shyly, even after my quip and our public kiss the night before.

“What can I say, a cup of coffee and a shower work wonders.” He joked. It was slightly awkward while we waited in line. We hadn’t really talked much outside of classes, so we weren’t sure where to start.

“Do you want to share a slice of cake?” Monty asked.

“Sure. Anything but carrot.”

“Chocolate?”

“Delicious. The best kind of cake.”

“I agree.”

It was our turn and we did the totally cliché thing of starting at the same time. “What can I get you?” The barista asked.

“Can I get a-.”

“May I have-.”

Monty turned to me, “you first.”

“May I have a non-fat latte with a cinnamon stick please?”

“Sure thing. Did you want a syrup at all?”

“No thank you. Just a plain latte and a stick of cinnamon.” She typed in my request and turned her attention to Monty.

“And yourself?”

“I’ll just have a black dark roast. And a slice of chocolate cake with two forks.”

“Coming right up.” She replied, smiling as she typed in the order and Monty paid her. I scouted a table near the back and pointed it out to my date. He nodded at me motioned for me to go over.

“I’ve got this.” I nodded and made my way over. To pass the time I pulled out my notebook and doodled a bit, waiting for either him to come over or inspiration to hit. It wasn’t long before he followed and sat down.

“One non-fat cinnamon sticked latte for the lady.” He flourished, sliding the cup over to me. I smiled and blushed, before noticing he was trying to sneak a peek at my notebook. I shut it quickly and slipped it into my bag. He chuckled.

“Secret diary Addison?” At least we have moved past awkwardly stating facts. I stirred my latte as he watched me, waiting for a response.

“No, not secret. Just private.”

“So private you brought it on a date?”

“I don’t leave the house without it. And we never explicitly said this was a date.” I smirked.

“Well I’m saying it now. It’s a date.”

“Alright then. We have established that, so does this mean we can break into the cake now?” I asked, picking up my fork.

He laughed and his eyes shone under the soft lighting. “I thought you’d never ask. I didn’t want to be rude.” Picking up his fork, he urged me to take the first bite. It was wonderful. Perfectly moist and not too dense. Just the right cake to icing ratio, the chocolate not overpowering. I could feel my pupils dilate and watched Montgomery smirk. “Good?”

“Yes. Taste it.” He eagerly took a bite and I watched as his eyes widened and he sucked in a breath. He took the time to really savour the bite. When he was done, he looked at me, a sated look on his face.

“That was the best bite of cake I have ever had.” He whispered, as though speaking at a normal volume would ruin the moment. “I know right?” I whispered back.

“Do we take another bite?”

“I think so. Together?”

“On three.”

I nodded. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three.” We said together, sticking our forks in the chocolate deliciousness, and biting at the same time. It was still great the second time around. After another bite each, we set the cake aside. I blew on my still hot latte and took a tentative sip. Monty was looking at me intently when I put my cup down.

“What?” I asked, my brow furrowing slightly.

“You have a little….” He motioned to his face. I did the same, apparently missing whatever was marring my face. “Here.” He reached over, swiping his thumb just above my lip, showing me the bit of icing before licking it off in a way that was somehow not gross, but rather, incredibly attractive. He took a drink from his cup and continued, “I’m surprised you didn’t bring a novel with you Addy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I hardly ever see you without your nose in a book or with a book in hand.”

“I do other things you know.”

“Mhmm. I’ve heard Justin talk about you in the locker room.”

“He talks about me?”

“Sometimes. Nothing bad I don’t think. I don’t really pay much attention to him if I’m being honest.”

“Huh. Okay. Well, I do. Other things I mean. And a lot of the time what I’m reading is for AP English Lit.”

“Like what?” He asked, sounding genuinely interested. He even sat up more and leaned closer to me. Wow. He actually seems to want to know.

“I like to cook. I like photography and designing photo albums. I’ve also been thinking of taking up knitting.”

“Busy girl then. Knitting? Think I could get a scarf sometime?”

“In California?”

“Maybe I’ll go somewhere it gets cold someday, who knows?”

“What about you? I mean, I know you’re an athlete. But what about when you’re not on the field or practicing? What do you like to do, just for fun?”

“I guess that is my hobby. Being an athlete is kind of what I do.”

“Oh come on. You have to have a hobby. Everyone has a hobby.”

“Would you judge me if I said video games?”

“Monty. I’m friends with Alex Standall. Video games are like… almost exclusively how he spends his time when he’s not with Jess or Hannah.”

“That’s fair. No judgement then?”

“Not from me.” I smiled. We chatted about mindless things for a while, like favourites and things we didn’t like. It was nice. We made our way through our drinks and our cake while we talked.

“Did you want another coffee?” I asked him.

“Sure.” He replied, reaching for his wallet.

“No, no. My turn. Snack?”

“If they have a lemon bar, that would be nice.” He replied, reluctantly putting his wallet away. Why do guy’s jeans get such big pockets? It really isn’t fair.

“I’ll be right back.” I said, grabbing my wallet. I ordered for us and got myself a cinnamon twist. I gave him a thumbs up when I caught his eye.

Once back at the table, I began picking apart my cinnamon twist.

“Is cinnamon a favourite then?”

“No, I would call it more of a like than a favourite.”

“Let me guess, vanilla?”

“No. Guess again?”

“Lemon?”

“Nope. Good, but no.”

“Some kind of berry?”

“Not even close. My favourite flavour is mint.”

“Cold and spicy. Would not have pinned you for cold and spicy.”

“More allspice?”

“Definitely what I would have guessed.”

“My turn?”

“Please.”

“Hmmm… black dark roast coffee, chocolate, lemon….” I thought out loud, “I would say vanilla, but you don’t seem like the type to do vanilla.” I left the connotation and innuendo without further comment. He didn’t comment on it either. I thought for a few minutes. He watched me think as we sipped our fresh coffees. “Cardamom.” I said finally. He blinked at me in surprise.

“That’s right. How did you guess?”

“It’s complex. It has layers.”

“And you think I have layers?”

“Yes. You’re complex. Interesting.” We didn’t tread further on the topic. Not first date discussion.

“What do you want to do?” He asked.

“Like, this afternoon? Or are you asking big picture?”

“Big picture but both is good.”

“This afternoon? Laundry and homework that I couldn’t do last night.”

“You want to do that?”

“It gets it done so I can enjoy Sunday doing nothing.”

“Alright, that makes sense. Big picture?”

I looked down into my latte, suddenly very shy. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“I highly doubt that Addy.” He replied, reaching across the table to take my hand. I felt a jolt in my arm but resisted the urge to look up.

“I want to be a writer.” I spoke quietly. I wasn’t sure if he heard me, too busy waiting for the laughter that was sure to come. When it didn’t, I looked up. “You’re not laughing.”

“Was I supposed to?”

“I don’t know.” I said, lamely.

“What kind of writer do you want to be?”

“I want to be an author. I want to write novels.”

“Why would I think that’s stupid?” he asked, confused.

“Because everyone else does?”

“I don’t.”

“That makes one, maybe two people who aren’t me who feel that way.”

“Two?”

“Justin. I think he only said it’s not because he is my best friend though.”

“What about your parents?”

I laughed. “My parents think I’m joking. ‘You can’t pay bills with books Addison.’”

“I think there are plenty of authors who make fairly decent livings actually.”

“I know. But my parents… my dad has an MBA from Stanford. My mom has a PhD in History from UCLA and is a tenured professor at Berkeley. Writing novels isn’t in the cards for me.”

He seemed to come to a realization then. “Your private notebook?”

“Never know when inspiration will hit.” I smiled.

“I thought it was a different kind of private.” He wiggled his brows.

“Only sometimes. Have to be in a certain headspace for it to be that kind of private.”

His eyes widened, “Addison Hawthorne!”

“What? It’s not like it’s wrong. It’s fun sometimes.”

“If you say so. But honestly. I don’t think it’s stupid.”

“What about you?” I asked, taking a bite of my cinnamon twist. Not going to dip it in my coffee on a first date. Weird food things are a fourth date thing.

“I mean, the dream is pro sports. I haven’t really thought about a fallback yet.  I will have one of course. I’ll go to school for something, I just haven’t decided yet.”

“Would you choose football or baseball?”

“Probably football. I like it more. I mean, I love baseball too. It’s just not something I see myself doing for the entirety of my professional career.”

“That makes sense. I think if I had to choose another career, I would probably choose something to do with public policy. Ole Miss has an amazing public policy leadership degree and it’s interdisciplinary so my parents would only be able to complain about the school.”

“Your parents would complain if you got in to Ole Miss?”

“Yes. Not as much as they would complain about NYU though. Dad might actually keel over if I went there.” Monty tried really hard not to laugh but couldn’t help it. “I know. They just want me to go where they think I should go. If dad had his way, I would be shipped off to England for business at Oxford or something.”

“Oh, I can see you loving that.”

“Yes, it would be fantastic.” I said, sarcastically. I didn’t know whether to ask about his parents and their thoughts on his future. I also hadn’t expected him to have anything figured out past high school, we are only sophomores after all. I was slowly growing uncomfortable with the line of questioning. Thankfully, he changed the subject to something more manageable.

“Are you really as picky about pens as Justin bitches about in the locker room?”

“He talks about me?”

“Yeah. Usually only good things, I can assure you. Pens though. That he complains about. I think it’s all in good fun, but pens and some of your other quirks can get him going.”

“Huh. Interesting. He talks about you too by the way. Less nice though.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. But about these pens?”

“I guess you could say I’m picky. I like gel pens and they have to be medium point. If I use a liquid ink pen, then it has to be a fine point.”

“He said something about colours.”

“Yes, I use coloured pens for notes. Each class is a different colour.” He looked at me funny, “it’s a girl thing.” I explained.

“I see. He said you only like black bic pens?”

“That’s right. I didn’t realize you listened to him that much.”

“I don’t usually….”

“Usually?”

“When he’s talking about the girl I like, then yeah. I listen a little more.”

I blushed again, while I sipped my coffee, watching him over the rim of my glass. He admitted he likes you. “Does Justin really talk about me?”

“Yeah, mostly to bitch about you being an asshole. He does acknowledge that you aren’t bad at sports.”

“Not bad?”

“That’s as big of a compliment as you’ll get from Justin.”

“Not surprised. You listen to him talk about me?”

“Well. Uh. Yes?”

“Often?”

“It’s not like he can complain to Bryce about you.” I redirected.

“Right. Because he can’t complain to Bryce. That the only reason Addison?”

“I don’t know Montgomery. I guess you’ll just have to figure that out on our next date.” I was taken aback by my own forwardness. Where did that come from? Monty’s brow raised. Oh no. There isn’t going to be another date. He probably just did this to have something to joke about with the guys later. I just made a complete idiot of myself.

“I thought it was my turn to ask you on a date.”

“Oh.” I said. “Okay. I take it back then?”

“Nah, it’s okay. Next time I’ll ask you.”

“O-okay.” I stuttered, my blush returning once again. “Did you want to go get ice cream or something next week?”

“Wednesday? 4:30?”

“That works for me.” I told him, smiling.

“It’s a date.” We stood and before parting ways, he leaned down and kissed me softly. I smiled at him as we left the café, careful to not leave together. I replayed the kiss in my mind the whole way home.

[ti-bae-rius]

Freeze - TGGTVAV fic

So, I recently finished The Gentleman’s Guide to Getting Lucky and oh my God my love for Monty and Percy has not diminished in the slightest. In honour, I’m releasing another one of my mini-fics based off the Fictober Day 4 prompt ‘Freeze’. Yay!

“We are going to freeze this winter.”

“We are not going to freeze.”

I flop down onto the bed, which groans under my weight – quite the insult when I’m positively skeletal at this point. Nevertheless, I’d rather starve with Percy than be well-fed without him. Though if I could have both, I wouldn’t complain. I shuffle uncomfortably.

“This mattress is lumpy.”

“That’s because you’re lying on my leg.”

I haul myself up and burrow under the blankets close to Percy, hoping to steal as much heat as possible, and shiver. Percy’s got a ball of wool in his lap, knitting me another hat. He’s terrible at knitting and all of his hats look like misshapen doilies. The last one he made me had to be spontaneously used to staunch his gunshot wound. After all of the awfulness passed, I was actually quite glad to be rid of the thing, but the stubborn bastard has started knitting a new one, in a horrible mustard colour.

“I’m going to be the best-dressed gambler there is,” I tell him loyally, resting my head against his shoulder. He smiles proudly and oh God and Jesus and all the demons in Hell, he’s so beautiful. He’s brilliant too, talented and thoughtful, and sleeps on the side of the bed closest to them door even though it’s colder because it’s on the side of my good ear so I can hear him when he speaks to me.

“I think I’ll audition for my place in the orchestra again tomorrow,” Percy responds. I stiffen. He lost his spot as second violin a couple of months ago because of his health, then he disappeared around the world with me – again – to find Felicity.

“Maybe you could tutor?” I offer and Percy turns his head to give me a small smile, immediately dropping a stitch and failing to notice. That’ll be a hold in the hat. It’ll look more like a net by the time he’s finished.

“Do you think many rich families in London will want someone with skin as dark as mine teaching their little darlings to play the fiddle?”

A part of me always forgets about that. It took a while to realise that ignoring Percy’s skin colour wasn’t a compliment to him but rather a disservice. I’m making a conscious effort to do better – I’m doing that with a lot of things – but I still make mistakes most days. Percy doesn’t mind. I curl closer to him, rest my head on his chest, almost getting a mouthful of yellow wool. Percy taps the tip of my nose with his knitting needle. He has a pair of fingerless gloves on and my heart twists with worry. Percy’s health isn’t on top form at the best of times, but he’s been fitting more with the cold. It makes it harder for him to sleep and they happen more when he’s tired. Then they tire him out and it happens again and again and seems like it’ll never stop. The first time I saw it was easily the scariest thing that had ever happened to me – far more frightening than anything my father did, than losing my ear, anything.

And then he got shot.

I know that should have scared me more, but somehow it didn’t. I knew people died from gunshots – but I also knew they were survivable and that if anyone could save him it would be Felicity. That day at the market, when he so calmly handed me his fiddle case and told me, in that matter-of-fact and serene voice, that he was about to faint, I had no idea what was happening. I was about to watch him die and every single thing I wanted to say hadn’t yet been said. Since then, it’s been said more times than I can count. But if it’s true, it can’t be said enough.

“I love you. I abso-bloody-lutely love you, Percy Newton.”

He kisses my cheek, the skin there puckered from my old wounds. It never seems to bother Perce though. In fact, it’s always the scarred side of my face he kisses.

“Do you want to warm up a little bit?” Percy asks, shoving his knitting onto the floor. I’m half on top of him before the question is even out of his mouth.

“Most methods of heating up don’t involve taking clothes off,” I comment, with a suggestive grin. “Just my favourite.”

Percy bites my lip to shut me up, which severely backfires when I moan in surprise. He giggles, pulling back and covering my mouth with a hand. I lick his palm and he draws his hand away.

“You are a beast, Monty,” he laughs, pulling his shirt off. “But you have frightening stamina so I doubt we’ll freeze this winter.”

“See? Poverty isn’t so bad, darling.”

Laid atop Percy, propped up, I see a rat steal away with the hat-in-progress and decide to keep my mouth shut for once. Squalor has perks if you know where to find them, in rats with fashion sense and a lad in bed who is very good with his hands. He needs the practise with them if he’s re-auditioning tomorrow. Violin-playing takes dexterity so really, I’m helping him. Percy is right, I think; we shan’t freeze this winter.

[isabellelambert1975]

Bloggers’ picks – the best Christmas gifts for gardeners

I’ve asked a range of leading bloggers to recommend the best gifts for gardeners. I set a price limit of under £50.

And by gardeners, of course, I mean ‘anyone who loves their garden.’

Note: There are affiliate links to Amazon in this post, which means I may get a small fee if you buy. But it doesn’t affect the price you pay. I’ve also given alternative buying options wherever possible.

For gardeners struggling with weeds…

That means most of us! I’m starting with Alison Levey’s suggestion for a practical Christmas gift for gardeners. Alison writes The Blackberry Garden blog, which is currently the UK no 1 gardening blog according to Vuelio. She describes herself as an ‘obsessional amateur’ and writes about her garden, garden visits and garden related subjects.

Alison suggested a Sneeboer ‘wrotter’ – ‘a great name and an extremely handy-looking tool. You can never have too many weeding tools.’

It’s available on Amazon as a Sneeboer weeding fork, but the cheapest place I found to buy it is Peter Nyssen, where it is called a ‘wrotter’ (£21 at the time of writing this).

Gifts for gardeners who travel alot…

Michael Perry (Mr Plant Geek) emailed me from China with his suggestion for plant lovers who travel alot. Michael is a ‘plant hunter’, horticultural new product developer, TV presenter and social media expert. His blog posts over the last year have come from China, New York, Japan and more.

Michael Perry – although I think he has since dyed his hair either silver or purple…

‘Gifts for gardeners? There’s just one obvious choice for me – the Plant Messiah book by Carlos Magdalena!’ says Michael. It’s sub-titled ‘adventures in search of the world’s rarest species. ‘I’m sure you know it. It’s an indulgent storybook about some of the world’s most amazing plants and, in some cases, how they were saved! Whilst I am travelling so much I can’t always be around plants, but this book, I CAN!!!’

Michael also has his own range of gardening clothes and accessories, including the Rude Botany range. These are t-shirts and more with slightly ‘rude’  (or even quite rude) sounding botanical names. They’d make good Christmas presents, too.

Christmas gifts for the veg grower

Firstly, a gift suggestion from Michelle Chapman of Vegplotting. She started blogging about her allotment in 2007, but soon found that the blog grew beyond that. Vegplotting now covers most aspects of gardening and grow-your-own, as well as food, travel, lifestyle and her home town of Chippenham.

‘A Christmas gift?’ she said. ‘That’s a no-brainer because I mentioned my choice in my post about Glee  – the gardening industry exhibition held every September.  It’s the Haws 5 litre metal slimcan watering can. My colour choice would be Claret to match Santa’s jacket, though there’s plenty of other colours to suit every gardener’s taste.’

Michelle Chapman would love to get this Haws metal watering can for Christmas.

‘It’s great quality, not too heavy when full, British made and the kind of thing I wouldn’t buy (I’d go for much cheaper). But I’d be ridiculously delighted if someone bought this for me. What’s not to like? I already have the wellies to match ;).’

Richard Chivers is also an allotmenteer blogger. His blog, Sharpen Your Spades, is a family, allotment and kitchen garden blog. He says that a new fork or spade would always be welcome under the tree, but he has several other suggestions.

‘A seed packet organiser is invaluable for all my packets of seeds – I was given one similar to this by Burgon & Ball.’

‘Wellies’ photo from Richard Chivers’ blog – with an excellent reminder that we could add gardening gifts for children to our Christmas list!

Richard raised the issue of gifts for children of garden-lovers, which is an excellent point. ‘I bought a very nice child size tool set for my daughter Ava earlier this year. Its been fantastic for making her feel part of the gardening – something that’s her own. Unfortunately it came from Wilko and I don’t think they do it anymore. It was £10.’

I’ve had a look for children’s gardening tools on Wilko, but couldn’t find any. However, they may return next summer. The only children’s gardening tools I’ve personally used with children are Kent & Stowe Kids Range.)

For the gardener who loves to preserve & pickle…

…why not get them into brewing their surplus produce? Brew-your-own used to be 1970s hippy, but it’s now 2018 hipster. Nick Moyle is one of the Two Thirsty Gardeners, who blog about growing your own and turning it into wine, beer, lager and more.

Their book, Brew It Yourself, distills (ha-ha) all their best recipes and would be a great Christmas present in itself. I thought it would be mainly aimed at men, but my jam-making and pickling female friends seized upon it (see this review of Brew It Yourself on my YouTube channel.)

And Nick’s suggestion for the gardener that brews, pickles and preserves is ‘a nice selection of Kilner jars and bottles.’

Kilner clip top bottles make a great present for the homegrown brewer, pickler and preserver.

‘I always find that no matter what you’ve been making, the resulting drinks always seem to taste nicer if they’re presented in a lovely bottle,’ he says. ‘And Kilner jars are the best for infusing. If you get a small selection as a gift then, if you’re lucky, you might get a filled one in return.’

The professional gardener’s present

David Marsden is a professional gardener, and writes The Anxious Gardener, winner of the 2015 Garden Media Guild blog of the year.

‘As a working gardener, friends and family almost always buy me gardening related gifts,’ he says. ‘So, a present which has nothing whatsoever to do with the garden would be a delight. Having said that, I rarely spend much on decent work-clothes, so a strong pair of multi-pocketed work trousers, with knee-pad pockets too, would be very welcome. Or else a bottle of excellent single malt.’

Questioned further on what type of trouser he’d like to be given, he sent this link:

 I’m convinced! I’d quite like a pair myself.

For the owner of a large garden

Anne Wareham, the Thinkingardens blogger and author of The Deckchair Gardener says that she’d like a new strimmer.  She and her husband, photographer Charles own Veddw, a major garden in Monmouthshire.

According to Alan Titchmarsh, Veddw is one of the ten best British gardens and the hedges alone at Veddw are worth a visit. So strimmers are an important part of Anne’s gardening armoury.

I told her I’d met a parenting blogger who’d moved into a house with a well planted garden. The blogger knew nothing about gardens and had no time (children, job, blog etc…) So she and her partner strimmed the garden all over in autumn, down to the ground in some places. ‘And it sprang up just as good the next year,’ she said.

Anne says that this is very much their approach at Veddw (though I suspect a very much higher level of expertise lies behind it). Certainly there are lots of useful gardening short-cuts in The Deckchair Gardener – it would make a good present for gardeners who’d like to do less and enjoy their gardens more.

Anne wouldn’t be drawn on which brand of strimmer she’d like, as she hasn’t bought one recently.

For the crafty or thrifty garden lover

Emma Varnam is a top crochet, knitting and design blogger and author of several books on knitting and crochet. Her Christmas present suggestion is an enamel mug with a delightful mug cosy you can make yourself.

The pattern for this charming mug cosy is on Emma Varnum’s blog.

She’s created a mug cosy pattern, which you can find on her blog (it’s free).

‘Enamel mugs are perfect for drinking that warming cuppa in the garden as they are more robust than our favourite china,’ she says. ‘However it is always a great idea to have a mug cosy to protect your fingers from the heat of the enamel and keep your delectable brew warmer for longer.’

‘Make the mug cosy with chunky yarn and purchase a lovely Falcon enamelware mug. You can often find enamel mugs in charity shops.’

Emma’s latest book Granny Squares Home – 20 Crochet Projects with a Vintage Vibe would also be an excellent present for a craft-loving garden or interiors addict.

For the urban cottage gardener

Julie Quinn writes The London Cottage Garden blog about small urban gardens where colour and profusion are important. ‘I’d choose the Collier Campbell Archive  book for two reasons.

The Collier Campbell Archive – a book of pattern and colour to inspire the colour-loving gardener.

‘Firstly the designs of Sarah and Susan are a history of our baby boomer lives in patterns and colours. They follow in the tradition of William Morris, and since the 1960s  their fabrics have influenced fashion and interior decorative design:  1960s Liberty florals, 1970s Jaeger dresses and 1980s Habitat sofas in a Bedouin stripe. ‘

The Collier Campbell ‘Seaside Garden’ fabric – beautiful!

‘Secondly this book full of vibrant patterns is an inspiration to a cottage style gardener – so many different colour combinations and all pleasing to the eye.  Whether your taste is a soft tapestry of pastels or deep earthy tones of North Africa, you will find a page in this book that speaks to you.’

The Collier Campbell Archive can also be bought at the Fashion & Textile Museum shop.

My own suggestions for gifts for gardeners…

I’ve mentioned several already, but I’d like to add one more. I think most garden-lovers would really enjoy Monty Don’s new book, Down to Earth. (And the Amazon price is particularly good at the time of writing). I’d particularly recommend it if you know someone who is just starting out gardening, although I think we can all learn from it.

There’s a video review of Down to Earth here:

Inspiration for your Christmas decorating

I love Christmas so the next few weeks on the Middlesized Garden will be about your garden and festive decorating. But don’t go away if you’re not a Christmas- lover  – normal gardening will soon be back!

I’ve kicked the Christmas season off with a short video on Christmas colour themes. Red, of course, is traditional – but see how festive pink, orange, blue or white can also be:

  One last word on gifts for gardeners…

You will have noticed that no-one has mentioned hand cream. Just saying!

Pin for reference:

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