The interior monologue of a first-time gardener.
'Look at all the small green things! I planted those! Wait, I didn't plant all of those, which ones are weeds and which ones are the things I planted? Are these weeds? Or are they poppy seedlings? What about these ones, are they weeds or cosmos? Are these small purpley ones weeds? Or are the not weeds? WHICH ONES ARE WEEDS? WHY DIDN'T I SOW THINGS IN STRAIGHT LINES LIKE MONTY DON TOLD ME TO? I don't know which ones to pull out. Actually, I don't think I want to pull out any of them, they're green and the garden is brown and green is better than brown. But I'm sure I've heard that you're supposed to pull out weeds, so maybe I should pull out something? There, that one looked rubbish, I've pulled it out. Now I'm sad. Am I done now? What is a weed anyway? Isn't it just a free plant? Maybe I should just leave everything? But then it's going to end up a mess and all those pretty poppies and ammis and cosmos and larkspur and delphiniums I planted will be swamped by ugly plants and it will be tragic. But what if I pull them out, thinking that they're weeds? Oh balls, it's all going to be a disaster. I don't like gardening. It's too difficult. Cara, pull yourself together and stop being a pansy. Ohh, pansies, I forgot to plant pansies. FOCUS CARA. WEEDING. Okay, I'm just going to pull out all of these ones that look like they're probably not something I planted because they're everywhere and I didn't plant anything everywhere. But maybe I'll leave a few, in case they're pretty. Fuck, gardening is stressful. I need a drink.'