Frankenfuschia

I went out last night and attacked the fuschia in the dark, while the bees were asleep.  DH went out with loppers in the rain this morning while the bees were sheltering and had another go.  It is no longer the size of the bathroom.  It is a shadow of it's former self.  I forgot to take a picture of it today but I'll post one tomorrow.

It's my fault it took over.  I should have cut it back in the spring.  Now all you can see are huge, trunk-like branches which look like they have matured over years instead of sprouting over the last few months.  I'm going to dig it out in the spring as it gets too big for the garden.  Also, while it was a spectacular part of the garden, I'm not that fond of fuschia.

Father was the one that planted it, and I'm not surprised because father had form.  When I was very young father planted a fuschia in our front garden.  It was supposed to be a small bush.  It was enormous.  We used to have to hack it back twice a year to let the postman through.  It towered over the path and cracked a sewer pipe.  We had to leave the house due to the divorce and my mother took cuttings.  They never did anything much.  They stayed as the small shrubs they were meant to be away from father's influence.

He took a scented geranium from me once when he was in his old flat.  It had survived me, which showed it had reserves, and he kept it outside his door in the communal hallway near a window.  It thrived.  The pot wasn't that big and last time I saw it the thing came up to my waist.  Father had green fingers.

Bear did some practice maths questions this morning that his tutor had found to practice for generic 11+ exams.  He had fifty to do in 50 minutes.  He took thirty five minutes and while he had to think about one or two, and the utterly awesome tutor asked him a few questions here and there, he got them all right.  I think he's getting fed up with me reassuring him, especially as he found the questions fun.  I'm going to root around the net for some non verbal reasoning and comprehension stuff and I've told him that we're going to do around fifteen minutes a night until next Saturday when he has the test for the grammar school.  Bear looked wearily unimpressed.  It's sort of reassured me.  I don't want to 'hot house' him or force him to perform at levels that he can't sustain.  Bear has convinced me that he would take firm action against any attempt.