Now that the garden is looking its best, Declan is torn between having everyone over for drinks to admire it, and saving the lawn from grievous bodily harm.
Having got it at such a pitch of velvety perfection, through dogged fertilising, sprinkling and mowing, he can hardly bear to see people walking on it, least of all Helen's hefty friends in their stiletto heels who wobble out through the patio doors, glass in hand, and sink ankle deep into the turf, saying "Declan! Gorgeous garden! Would you come over and do mine some day?"
It didn't get like that by accident, he'll say, dragging out the Honda Lawnflite (flail action) for yet another run around. He's on it so much these long evenings, Helen wonders if he's getting high on the petrol fumes. Gardening used to be her thing, but now Declan has taken their quarter acre in hand and every square inch is being ruthlessly cultivated. While she is fond of wandering around Sexton's in a bit of daze picking up rafts of pretty shrubs - hibiscus, peonies and the like - then leaving them in the boot of the car to dry out for a couple of days, Declan takes a helicopter view. He plans long term and he is actually thinking of banning Helen altogether from plant buying. Sure that cottage garden of hers out the front was a menace. Needed a man with a scythe to deal with it in the end. Still can't get rid of the wild garlic, dirty bugger of a thing.
No, Declan likes structure and he's also very fond of stone. His garden may not be very big but I think you'll find it has everything. There the lawn of course; there's his Zen garden across this little bridge here, and take a look at this bench: rather nice. He found the granite for the seat under the old compost heap. Through here is a garden that is rather interesting because it's all foliage, no flowers and very restful, while at this end here is his stone garden, that he built around a head that he humped all the way from a place in Kerry. Very Easter Island. The patio area is a dazzling arrangement of limestone, redbrick laid herringbone style and a rather pretty mosaic of broken glass and old bits and bobs that Helen fancied. The fellow who did the work, a real craftsman, was at it for weeks before being discovered by Michael Flatley and whisked off to Cork.
Don't ask Declan for help with your garden, as he'll only tell you to plough it up, seed it all over again, and then weed it 15 times a day. He's unlikely to offer you the loan of his nifty Speedyweeder, but is dying to off-load a contraption he bought recently - an expensive thing with spikes that spews out lawnfeed in such industrial doses that your grass will turn bright yellow and take the rest of the summer to recover.