My seedlings are on Death Row.  They sit on my window sill looking out of their barred jail, blissfully unaware that their days are numbered.

It is a cruel fact, but I will be their executioner.  It is an understatement to say that I am botanically challenged.  I am in fact a serial killer of plants.

You could say that I am Jack the {beanstalk} Ripper.

My last victim was a chilli plant that I tortured for a year or so before going in for the kill.  Our garden is a veritable necropolis of the deceased remains of my unsuspecting biota.

One tough cactus survives.  I have no idea what it actually lives on, as it doesn’t generally receive any of the usual requirements for sustaining life.  Possibly it has actually got legs, and makes little trips to the water tap when I’m not looking.  I bet it also sneaks a bit of fertilizer from next door every now and again, and has a good long soak in it.