The Remarkable Tale of Orchie ?

I could tell he wasn’t best pleased with his surroundings, his droopy leaves and sad flowers gave that particular game away. But, I tried to make him happy, I watered him, I fed him, I talked to him, I tried to give him the best start in his new home, he had pride of place. But still, all these efforts had little effect, the orchid was, I firmly believe, depressed. He was given to me by Matt, and whilst our relationship tumbled, Orchid, or Orchie as I tended to call him, also floundered.

When I flew off over the pond to the the land of the Dairy Queen and Auntie Annes, I told Orchie that I was going to win back the heart of the love of my life, however Orchie feigned a smile and just looked less than impressed. Needless to say, when I returned from America, not the jubilant victor, but the crumpled sad remnants of a looser, Orchie was in a sorry state, to say the very least, in fact he was little more than a couple of storks and a few leaves hanging limp and lifeless down the side of the pot, like green blobs of paint dripping down the wall after being splatted there by someone as good as me at painting, and I’m not good at all.

I said a sad farewell to him, thinking his days were numbered, perhaps in single fugues, and put him to spend his final days in the back bedroom. Which, isn’t as bad as it sounds, it’s south facing, getting the most of the days sun, free from draughts and closed curtains and the probing, not so green, fingers of 40 year old full of good intentions yet lacking in growing ability and knowledge!

That could very well have been the end of this sad tale, this story of life, this horticultural link between plant and human interaction. Indeed, as my heart broke, Orchie’s life drained away like the sands of time through an hour glass. Just as the relationship between Matt and I had broken down beyond all hope, so too had little Orchid’s lifespan. But, just like in the best Hollywood blockbuster movies, the latest Richard Curtis rom-com or one of those trashy airport bought novels that we all diss and criticise, but have us locked page after page on holiday, something magical happened!

Orchie, the little minx, wasn’t dead after all, he was alive, he started to show new green buds, a new leaf, a sign of life in the old down trodden plant yet – a bit like me! So Orchies’ new attempt at life, had to be encouraged, I moved his location to the kitchen, where he could have company and conversation. I mean, they need talking to, ever day I say a few words to him, I don’t want him to be lonely, and I read somewhere that talking to plants makes them happy. Plus I don’t wanna be woken one day to find the Society For The Prevention of Cruelty to Plants knocking on my front door, claiming that Orchie is being mistreated! So, anyway, he’s in the kitchen, he gets a daily talking to, he watering needs are taken care of and he’s blooming and blossoming very nicely thank you very much.

There it is, there you blooming well have it, Orchie the Orchid is positively thriving, following a pretty amazing spectacular turn of fortunes. Now if, could that be a sign, an indication, that this bizarre plant analogy is not actually to far from the real events that is my life, really? OK, lets look at the evidence, when I got the plant, my relationship with Matt, at least in my eyes, mind and heart, was perfect, pretty and blossoming. Then as a little time passed, the communication wained as Matt’s feelings changed and Orchie started to droop and fail, it’s life blood draining away. Crisis time, the email to me from Matt, ending it all, was the day all flower petals fell away, over to America I flew, Orchie’s leaves wobbled, I came back empty handed and single and the last resemblance of life disappeared from the once proud plant, it was all too much to cope with and given up, we pretty much had. Now, just as my life moves on, so too does Orchie’s, he’s onward and upward growing and me…..