The green bench nestling in the arms of the tortured fig has probably been the favourite bench in the garden. In summer the leaves of the fig enclose it and the apparent privacy encourages all sorts of business - it is actually overlooked by the Pendrell ladies who inform me of all the fun in jaded tones (they really have seen it all before).
During its long tenure in the garden it has collapsed and been cleverly re-built time and time again to evolve from traditional park bench to a battered green truncation. It has finally succumbed to the abuses of garden life and is now beyond repair.
The joints have rotted from within and there are concerns that some overly-nourished amorous couple could become injured. Despite my gut feeling that a concealed camera would be the better option, reaping financial rewards with a 'You've Been Framed' payment of £250, I have been advised by the garden management committee that it has to go.
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