Wilfred Farquhar had always been obsessed with flowers.   Even as a child in England, while other boys were off playing cricket or soccer or rugby, young Wilf would be helping out around the school’s extensive gardens.   (Which were maintained by the Horticulture tutor, Leonard Sherlock, and any boys not addicted to sport.)

Although enthusiastic, Wilf was never very talented as a gardener.   Despite this, however, shortly after migrating to Australia in his early twenties, Farquhar managed to convince the Footscray City Council that he was a horticultural expert and was quickly employed by the FCC gardening unit.   Which not only allowed Farquhar to work full-time out in the sunshine and fresh air with the flowers that he loved, but also provided him with an endless free supply of flowers, tools, and fertilisers for his own garden.

To the constant chagrin of his wife, Winifred, who would say, “You old fool, Wilf, one day they’ll catch you stealing all of that, then you’ll be out of your nice, cushy job!”

“It’s not stealing, Winnie!” he’d protest, indignant at the mere suggestion.

“Then what do you call it?” she demanded.

“Borrowing on ninety-nine-year loan,” he answered.   “Besides the others help themselves to a lot more than I do.”   Which was true.   Whereas Farquhar had never risked “borrowing” anything larger than small gardening tools, other FCC workers took full-sized picks and shovels, rakes, brooms, and even wheelbarrows.   To the point where there had even been a small enquiry by the council after a worker had  stolen three brand new barrows on the same day.   Then the roof had almost caved in on all of them, as Wilf’s closest friend at works Edgardo Malkovic, liked to say.

Seeing Winnie’s sceptical look, Wilf would pout and say, “Anyway, I’ll return it all, when I’m finished with it…Someday.”

“Yes, but someday never comes,” Winnie would point out.

Yet despite his wife’s sarcasm, Wilf did sometimes return tools to the tool shed at the FCC depot.   Although it was usually after the handle had broken, or the metal rusted after being left outside in the rain.   And, of course, having returned the damaged tool, he would always “borrow” a replacement.