Anna Pavord: "I can't stop fantasising about the dream home ... for my plants"

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It is fantasy time again. The dispiriting reality of winter's gales and rain fosters extravagant dreams. Mine presently centre round a conservatory, a leafy, scented, luxurious bolt-hole that I could escape into as the wind howls down the chimneys of the house and the rain beats down the last remnants of the monkshoods and verbena in the garden.










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