The single biggest event to have befallen this garden was the construction of the wall.

Last September, the tangle of shrubs and climbers that marked the boundary between what is mine and what could have been mine was replaced by a structure of significantly greater permanence. Its symbolism was not lost on me, having recently returned from a trip to Berlin. However, having successfully jettisoned any dreams of garden-reunification I found myself actually relishing the idea of owning and tending a fully walled garden. This might actually provide the final missing component in my bid to see the space as something whole rather than something divided. I was dreaming of country rectories, topiary and rambling roses on warm mellow brick. Lee was less positive, viewing the wall and its significance from more of a Cold War perspective.

Beautifully constructed in ‘English garden wall bond’, from reclaimed London stocks, it perfectly matches the two original flank walls, and whilst lending an instant cohesion to the garden, it was sadly much lower than the tangle of vegetation and the broken fence it replaced. We were suddenly exposed, and if Lee was ever to be coaxed into the Eden I was about to create, I would also have to provide privacy.