Give a gnome a home...

I wonder what it must be like to be a garden gnome? Are they hurt by the disdain so many people have for them? Do they worry about the snide comments? Are they bothered that their day has passed and they are out of fashion? Do they really care what people think?

If I was a garden gnome I wouldn’t.

If I was a garden gnome I’d keep my head down and enjoy a spot of fishing, dig the garden, or simply sit on my toadstool in the sunshine and watch the world go by. After all, who really cares what other people think? If they don’t get you then that’s their problem, not yours. Just because you may wear a brightly coloured tunic, tights, and a big pointy hat, it doesn’t necessarily make you a bad person. It’s not like you’re a witch or anything. Besides, what’s wrong with having your own style?

I believe there’s a place in every garden for a gnome or two, no matter how designer the garden purports to be. Let’s face it; if you can cope with a bloody big Buddha, then you can deal with a tiny gnome. Besides, what’s not to like? Gnomes are fun; only there to make us smile. Good humoured chaps who don’t mind being tucked away in a corner. They are as happy peering from behind a bush or rock as perched upon a pedestal, or why not hang one on a swing from the branch like I do.

There’s a gnome for every occasion or interest. They don’t have to be twee; although they really do have to have the pointy hat. Hatless gnomes or gnomes in baseball caps don’t really work, a bit like Tory politicians with no ties and rolled up sleeves.

They have even allowed them into the Chelsea Flower show once, until banning them again this year. So go on, give a gnome a home, there’s no shame in it. It just goes to show how kitsch-cultured, ironic, and cool you really are.