There’s a sweet honey scent in the garage; the hoya is flowering. Its flowers are sometimes called porcelain flowers, which seems apt as they hardly look real. There are three clusters of flowers this summer. You can see nectar dripping from the centre of each flower.

I have had the plant since the late 1970s when house plants were all the rage – as they are again now. It’s still in the same small pot and macrame hanger. Long ago, I decided to divest myself of indoor plants (but do enjoy a couple of small ones I have been given) particularly when the monstera deliciosa grew monstrous (think Little Shop of Horrors) and the spider plants looked tired. They ended up in my classroom and in the department resource room for years. I liked to think they removed pollutants from the air, but apparently, you need to have a room crammed full of plants for that to happen. I would bring them home over summer, not into the house but into the garage or sheltered spots in the garden. One, a Fatsia Japonica, didn’t make it back to school. It is now about three metres tall and about as wide, growing happily in the garden – despite at times attracting blackbirds (for the seeding flower heads), scale, aphids, whitefly, sooty mould and ants.

The hoya remains on the laundry side of the garage where it seems to be thriving beside the window, growing in and out of electrical cables and the laundry stuff. I try to remember to water it, feed it occasionally and wipe the leaves with Conqueror Oil sometimes. When it threatens to spread itself around the garage I cut it back but, undeterred, it sends out new tendrils with ambitious intent.