Nichols is the comfort read of gardeners because his books, although full of village characters and quirky neighbours, are ultimately about his garden. In this favourite reread, he has returned from service in India after the war and is trying to find a house outside of London. Happily for both author and reader, he not only finds Merry Hall itself but with it its gardener, Oldfield, and a property much in need of Nichols' tender care. Well, not so tender, as the book describes the antics involved with burning down a holly hedge, chopping down ancient elms whose roots are sucking the goodness out of the soil for miles and the demolition of a scum-filled pond.

This is book one of a trilogy about Merry Hall and it might be one of my favourite Nichols books. A writer, decorator, garden designer, pianist of no small accomplishment if he can play Chopin as he does throughout the book, Nichols was one of those creative beings who had a compulsion to make beautiful everything around him. I love him because he can be so hissy spitty deliciously catty at times but also because his is a soul which craves the beautiful and works hard to make it happen.

This isn't heavy stuff. The heavens won't open and the finger of enlightenment won't give you a flick on your third eye. But if you are ever laid low by a bug and would like some companionship, Nichols is your man. It would help if you are also a gardener because he has the excellent habit of saying what his plants are in Latin. Ooooh, a gardener after my own heart.

Afterthought: a friend commented that Nichols gets compared to E.F. Benson quite often but I want to say, quite firmly, that he isn't really in Benson's league. The latter is dry, wry, elegant and refined. Nichols can be quite waspish and is NOT subtle. He can also be quite openly campy (which I love). But he is a gardener and that's what I connect to. If you don't garden, I can't speak to whether or not this book would be hopelessly dated 40s stuff or not.

The first in a trilogy, this lovely book chronicles Nichols' search for and purchase of a country freehold not too far from London where he can garden. Taking place not too long after the end of the Second World War, not only is this a delightful and enchanting book about plants and gardening, but it is awonderful snapshot of a time long since past. Nichols' garden is his main focus but he also introduces the reader to his eccentric neighbors, his elderly gardener, and various other people about the place. He discusses the folly and joys that came with purchasing his estate. And he generally injects enough light humor in all areas that this was a wonderful, completely appealing read. There are certainly instances that firmly place this in its time period but it has aged well and was a wonderfully diverting book to cozy in with for an afternoon. I have to actually physically restrain myself from jumping immediately into the second book in the trilogy, wanting to draw out the pleasure a bit by savoring the anticipation of an equally lovely amount of time spent with it. And don't skip over this book thinking that you aren't a gardener and don't want to read about gardening. Anyone who lights a hedge on fire on purpose and scorches the heck out of his new albeit slightly dilapidated home should be able to entertain any and all non-fiction readers with ease. ( )

Beverley Nichols--what a funny guy! I love a lot about his 'home' books, but often get annoyed with his snide and superior tone. I forgive him often, though...by re-reading my favorites. ( )