We've all had that nightmare vision of our own lonely deaths, our neglected corpses gnawed by domestic pets.
Part of that scenario would perhaps include the invasion of the garden into the house, ivy skittering across the ceiling, bindweed round the banisters, romneya coulteri heaving up the floorboards. Dirty green light wavering through the engulfed window-panes, great shrubs only feet from the house. There are smashed roof tiles on the grass, dislodged by giant wisteria and vast Russian vines. Of course the grass is only there because it's mown once a fortnight by a sulky teenager, the space is getting smaller at every visit.
