People who live with plastic houses...

Advantages: Great if you’re hoping to instigate divorce proceedings.
Disadvantages: Assembly process reminiscent of the Krypton Factor Manual Dexterity Challenge.

Some say the arrival of children can make or break a relationship. Wiser folk can tell you the real acid test – the 8’ x 6’ rigid plastic self-assembly greenhouse.

Pictured standing magnificently, boasting heavy crops of tomatoes and lush tropical flowers, in mail order catalogues everywhere, this stunning erection will set you back around £200.

Mine arrived in the most enormous White Arrow lorry I’d ever seen. A deliveryman got out, went round the back and emerged with two packages in his arms. I could have fitted the lot in the boot of the car, and still had room for a week’s holiday luggage for the entire family. There was a 3’sq flat box containing the plastic panels, and a four-foot long narrow box holding the metal bars, nuts and bolts. As soon as I saw it, I knew trouble was brewing, and my heart sank still further when I opened the box and saw the assembly instructions, which were sketchy to say the least.

The next morning, my husband’s doubts were evident from the word go, while I tried to lighten the mood with cheery comments reflecting an optimism I did not feel. Two hours later, just four metal bars had been put in place, and several screws had been lost, as well as our tempers. The kids had been banished indoors, and we were openly swearing at each other, albeit in low voices, while the neighbour’s curtains twitched as they enjoyed a pantomime they seemed to think we were staging especially for them. Fortunately, at that point a friend turned up – I’m certain his appearance that day prevented a murder. “Can I help?” he enquired. I was off down the road with the kids and sitting on my mum’s sofa before I could even finish saying “Here’s a screwdriver!” Early that evening, I returned to witness a miracle – thanks to the timely intervention of our heroic ally, the greenhouse was just reaching completion. However, my greenhouse traumas were just beginning…

From the start the door never fitted properly (and I’m sure this had nothing to do with the mysterious collection of leftover metal bars that sat redundantly under the bench!), and so the greenhouse was impossible to heat effectively through the winter, and in the spring cats would squeeze through to warm their bums on my lovingly planted seed trays. The wind would also howl through the gap and blow giant holes in the plastic panels, which cost around ten pounds each to replace. After three years, I was getting a little fed up with the annual expense and work involved in maintaining what I was beginning to see as nothing more than a giant cloche, when I happened to be standing next to it in a gale. The racket it was making as the wind battered the plastic panels was unbelievable - I’d never heard it before, as it was right at the end of our garden. I was well aware that the occupants of a neighbouring house could hear it though, as it was practically beneath their bedroom windows. It was the last straw – the greenhouse had to go.

I can’t say I’ve missed it at all. Thanks to its habit of frequently shedding panels, it was already useless for much of the year, and there’s now more room in the garden for my biggest crop. Yes, there’s going to be a bumper harvest of weeds this year!