Damn! Operation Fig Tree ... failed!

There is a lovely big fig tree in the garden, courtesy of our favourite fish and chip shop. The chippy was run by an Italian guy, Mario, who loved figs and kept a host of fig trees in pots in a spare room at the chip shop. He and Maureen used to talk about them a lot, and one day he gave Maureen one of the fig trees, which we planted in the garden. And it took over everything. Fig roots are almost as pervasive as bindweed. So after a few years we dug it up and put it into a sturdy tub. And it still grew, spreading long whippy branches and finger-like leaves over damn near a quarter of the garden.

Confession time: I can't stand figs. Maureen loved them, but they are not for me. Also, frankly, I need to get at the space where it is. So for the last year or so I've been trying to work out what I can do about it. I don't want to just cut it down, if I can avoid that; it is too lovely and robust a tree for that. Then the wonderful Gemma Strang, whose house backs on to the bottom of my garden, said she would like it. So today the team of gardeners who are doing work in her back garden came around to see if they could lift it over the wall.

And they failed. Because the tree root has broken right through that sturdy tub and anchored the whole thing immovably to the ground. So now? Well the tree is very productive at the moment, so I will harvest the figs and when the season is over (end of August, beginning of September) we'll see about getting the gardeners back to try and dig it out and relocate it to Gem's garden.

And if that doesn't work? I suspect I will just have to cut the tree down, which seems a shame. And that probably means that my piecemeal attempts to restore some sort of order to the garden in general will be on hold until the end of summer.