8
RICHARD PARRY
Richard returns the garden broom and the rake to the small storeroom at the back of the garage, the patio at last free of silt and grit. Picón, the locals call it, a form of volcanic ash. What a lot of effort. Taking in the lay of his small patch of Lanzarote, it seems to him thoroughly stupid to sink a patio below the height of the garden beds and expect the dry-stone walls to retain it all, whatever the conditions. And so much for a raised bed. His cacti nearly drowned in Saturday's deluge! Still, on the positive side, the water never lasts long here, it seems to just vanish, unlike in parts of his homeland, his blessed Bunton, where he's heard the land has turned to bog and looks set to stay that way until the summer.
He goes inside, deciding he needs to employ a gard
