I like gardens, but I suspect them too. Gardens pretend to be outside, but their secret is that they are not. A garden is a place you can’t have, a state that doesn’t exist. It’s a door that won’t open. The sightlines of gardens are designed not to deliver, designed to promise precisely what’s not–precisely what can’t be–on offer; their exteriority exactly resembles the reliability promised by a BT Broadband ad, or the empathic altruism featured in an ad for the Halifax Building Society. The heartbreaking quality of the best gardens is that they are a form of nostalgia for something that doesn’t exist; & the worst never achieve that but signal, from the start, Built Environment.