Mark Andrews on Saturday: If I ruled the world, gardening would be a lot easier

I'm sure he meant well, but I think I would have been a bit more ambitious. If I ruled the world, every day would be the height of a sizzling summer, and there would be white sandy beaches and crystal blue lagoons next to the cut in Dudley. Fountains dispensing free real ale and champagne for all, Aston Villa would win the Premier League every season, and the finest finishing schools would teach their pupils to speak with the perfect Black Country accent.

But sadly I don't, it seems that Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg rule the world these days. Which is why our high streets resemble Third World shanty towns, and teenagers spend what should be the best years of their lives locked in their bedrooms uploading pictures on social media.

Still, now is not the time to be downbeat, not on the first Saturday in spring.

I love spring, it is a season of hope and optimism. Each day gets lighter and warmer, we can start dreaming of another summer like the one of 1976, or indeed the one we had last year. It marks the time when I can tentatively start driving my soft-top car with the roof down. Of course I will be freezing my whatsits off in a leather jacket and the heater on full pelt, but that's not the point. The aspiration is there.

But it is also a very dangerous time. Because it is also when I will reluctantly turn my attention to the garden.

Proper gardeners will say this should be an all-year-round affair. They will have spent the winter months carefully cultivating seeds in the greenhouse, thinned them out into separate pots, and will know exactly when they are mature enough for the flower beds. I, on the other hand, will spot a rack of flowers on special offer outside the supermarket, buy the lot because they're cheap, and then spend the next three weekends trying to find space for 150 cut-price geraniums between the various tree roots I have been trying to smash with a spade.

A few years ago, I saw some beautiful giant chrysanthemums for £2.50 each, and they looked fantastic. So I went back the following Saturday when they had been reduced to £1.50, and cleared the shelves. After a few hours of back-breaking toil I had a display Percy Thrower would have been proud of – at least until the following Wednesday. It was then that I discovered they were cheap because they were at the end of season and practically dead.

Then there are those seductive adverts in the newspapers at weekends. Last year, I saw photographs of huge, brightly coloured ‘dinner-plate’ dahlias, with the incentive that if you buy far more than you need, you will get 10 more free. So of course I did. Then the following day, one of the Sunday magazines was advertising beautiful hanging baskets, overflowing with glorious blooms, so I ordered a couple of those too. I hoped that in exchange for £70 I would have a ready-made garden delivered to my doorstep. I actually got a bag of bulbs and two plastic bowls.

This left me with three possible courses of action. I could use my extensive horticultural knowledge and infinite patience to create a display just like the one in the advert. I could take advantage of the money-back guarantee, and send it all back for a full refund. Or I could pour myself a beer, grab my newspaper, and enjoy the spring.

I will leave you to guess which option I chose.