My Parents' Bizarre Garden

My parents reside about two miles away from my house in a house which they've lived in since 1973 and ergo, where I grew up.  It's a strange place, but I won't elaborate too much and hopefully admitting that it was built on the same ground where once occurred one of the worst Stone Age massacres in living history won't affect the resale price in the long run, not even in these times of suburban property shortages. 

What my folks really like doing is gardening, but no, not in the traditional trug-wielding way that spiritedly sixtysomethings enjoy, oh no - it's much stranger than that.  Take for example, their Model Village:

Actually, I am quite impressed by it, especially as they bought the concrete models from Whelan's which is a stoneware superstore based on The Isle of Sheppey which they bought plain and painted up themselves.  My favourite thing is their nod to David Icke's theory about the existence of lizard deities, which takes pride of place in the centre of their creation:

Of course, no garden would be complete without a pond and here's a snap of their home for all things piscine and amphibian.  There's a bit of a funny story derived from this, recently their new young male neighbour knocked on the door at 10pm stating that there asking whether the frog in their garden had escaped over the fence from my parents' pond and if so, could they remove it as it was and I quote 'freaking him out by hopping at him' - Mother went to investigate and there was no sign of the small Baron Silas Greenbackesque creature.

They also appreciate Easter Island Moai Statues whom Charlie Brooker once wittily quipped that they closely resembled the former Doctor, Matt Smith:

Of course, it wouldn't be a garden without other random statues scattered around - my personal fave is the enormous squirrel.

My parents also have two cats named Fluffy and Pamela - here's a picture of the former, who is of course, kind of hairy - fluffy even.  Mother and Father didn't name him, they adopted him from a woman who later died of cancer.  Pamela was rescued from a mental patient who threatened to drown her when she was only a tiny kitten and my very own moggie, Tilly was a Cats' Protection League adoption after she was rendered homeless after her owners abandoned her.  I would like to state categorically at this stage that I only own have one cat and a solitary gerbil (named Monica - her tank mates Rachel and Phoebe have both ascended to the great gerbilarium in the sky) as having too many animals around the house is a bit odd and would suit me well if I decided to give up on life completely, thus donning a fleece and hanging around the tramps' benches in town swigging a can of White Lightning and talking gibberish to passers by.  Regular readers will be aware that I don't aspire to such behaviourial traits for another decade at least.