My grandmother is an inspiration to me. Her garden was a holiday playground, whether dancing round a sprinkler when I was little or wrestling with the rambling roses when I was a bit older. She’s helped out guerrilla gardening in London but at home in Devon her focus is on litter picking round her local recreational ground. It’s a chore the local authorities do not do enough for her liking, but one she sees as a healthy part of her weekly routine to get out of the house. But she’s been making plans to get back to the guerrilla gardening front line. She told me about a shabby triangular bed near her home, one the local council plant twice a year with sparse bedding but then abandon, but needed help to get it going. So on a recent visit I joined her for a night of action and planted a couple of Viburnum and a Golden Holly. Gardening alongside my 93 year old grandmother was great fun, not just because of all her experience but because it’s a pedestrian stopping spectacle. She even got a kiss from a stranger!