A Plot

Once upon a time I found a garden
Picked the brightest things that I could see;
An apron full of Mr Harding's flowers
I didn't know that he was watching me
Straight away my mother ran to tell him
Wondering what he would say or do
Mr Harding smiled and said, "She's just a little child;
I knew that she'd be picking them for you."

A Proper Sort of Gardener - Maggie Holland

Maggie Holland also wrote a better-known song called 'A Place Called England' - about seeing signs of hope, resurgence and progressive spirit amid post-imperial and post-industrial decline and class division. It's a universe away from whatever resentful spirit inspires the flags lashed to roundabout lamp-posts and motorway bridges on our journey south. It probably wouldn't please them that Maggie's words always come to my mind when I see their efforts

The song has a slightly obscure line about 'Mr Harding'. This is a reference to one of her first songs, that tells Mr Harding's story - the opening of which is above. It is more sentimental and personal than her later song, but still has time to lament that 'Mr Harding's garden was all taken / By lesser men with concrete in their minds' 

No immediate risk of that here, I think. This tiny allotment area is an enclave within an enclave, part of a tiny green area accessed via an unsigned snicket beside a care home. Nevertheless, it is obviously much loved and we were not the only ones using it to walk dogs or babies. The allotments are still full of colour and energy, and the care they get is self-evident. Close to sleep, our charge did not suggest picking flowers for Mummy

As with most action by the angry right, I find their flags both ridiculous and threatening, but the summer began with predictions of mass violence - not least by those trying to incite it. If a few flags for the autumn storms to shred is the worst that happens, perhaps there is still time for a more constructive vision of the future of a place called England to take root