Now I am not renowned for my sartorial elegance or for wearing sport-related clothing (with the dubious exception of my, perhaps mercifully, too-rarely-worn cycling gear) and so more often than not I am dressed in pretty much the same way.

Almost daily I pull on my (hiking) boots to go to work, go in the garden, go out for the day, take the dog out or even go out hiking. To me they are as comfortable as any carpet slippers (a pair of which, incidentally, I do not own) and a natural extension of myself.

I wear them because they are so comfortable, so practical and indeed prevent fatigue and aching feet. They suit my needs. You might say, I am built for comfort not speed.

The thing is my work clothes keep the rain off my back and provide a home for all my bits and pieces – cordless phone, mobile phone, marker pens, Biro, cheque book, bits of paper and keys. The keys alone weigh a ton, despite my best efforts to cull as many as possible – house, car, wife's car, work's van, side gate, locker, trailer – and a couple of little ones I dare not throw away because I know I will need them.

Then there are the keys for work, which are characterised by their variations in size, shape, colour, and complete unrecognisability, but above all their sheer numbers – they are not just a few, they are legion. The bunch has all the characteristics of a metallic exploding cabbage – and weighs the same as a concrete block!

In the darker recesses of my pockets, there lurk spanners, Swiss Army knives, loose change, wing nuts and significant deposits of gravel, together with bits of string, screws and nails.

I popped out to the pie shop the other day (more out of intellectual curiosity and to gain confidence in my developing social skills you understand rather than to participate in some lard-based act of gluttony) and produced a grubby fist full of coins mixed in with a generous dose of ericaceous compost, binder twine and used plant labels.

A true professional, the assistant barely turned ashen as she donned disposable rubber gloves before weakly smiling and accepting my gritty payment. Rumour has it they had to vacuum the inside of the till at closing time.

As regards wearing the same cap, it is true my NYPD baseball cap has done sterling service. With the foul weather we have endured for the past nine months, keeping your head dry and warm has been sheer commonsense.

Since I started my new job it has been almost continuously cold and wet. Last Tuesday, however, the sun came out (for the day as it happens), but sadly the cap had to stay on. The solar panel on the top of my head gets increasingly big as I get older, and to avoid misleading people into thinking I was entering holy orders or sporting a trendy new hair style inspired by the polo mint, I like to keep my cap on so the top of my head does not get sunburn.

Consequently, my garb rarely changes, and as a result I attract such astute observations in respect of my head gear.

At any point in my working day, my colleague, Malcolm, may ask me to clean out a pond, gravel a path, water the plants or maybe concrete a path. The list is neverending and always varied. Quite simply to dress in, say, trousers and a smart shirt would be a nonsense and the practicalities of my working day would require about six changes of clothing. That explains why I dress as I do. I am a practical working gardener.

Thankfully, it is a life I love and I am so grateful I escaped from my former career in banking (and I also can take no blame for the current "sub-prime" crisis).

This week we have been busy clearing a bed of old water garden plants, a job which entails paddling in dirty water to transfer any newts, frogs and toads to safety, pumping out dirty water, re-potting stuff, and reflooding the display.

The debris from the display we leave for a day, so any other critters in there can haul themselves back into the water. This is very good practice in any pond where you are seeking to attract wildlife. As humans, we tend to prefer to keep things orderly. Nature is not like that. That evil-smelling unpalatable muddy waste from the bottom of the pond is home to all manner of pond creatures.

As kids we used to go out looking for newts, taddies, water boatmen and caddis fly larva. The caddis flies play an important link in the fresh water food chain, since a great many fish and water birds live on both adults and larvae. The larva drag their home, around on their backs (a bit like me), a case made of twigs and plant debris. One form makes its case from tiny snail shells. This stage lasts a year.

If you have cleaned out the bottom of the pond carefully, inspect the waste for signs of life and, if allowed to rest from the shock of being hoovered up, slowly, loads of little critters emerge and make a beeline for the pond – a fascinating miniature jungle of life.

But there is no rest for the wicked. Malcolm has had me preparing the bedding plant and hanging plant display, shifting dozens of pots and netting the koi carp against the predations of the incredibly audacious, inventive and persistent heron. I admire these birds and I suppose it has a family to feed, but they can devastate fish stocks.

And then there are the customers – the lifeblood of any business. But what a business to be in. Dealing with like-minded people who love their gardening, have a passion for plants and appreciate the wonders of nature. More than that, it is surprising how many visit, share their experiences with us and some even come in dressed like gardeners, like me with pockets stuffed with twine and secateurs.

Mind you none of them sports an NYPD cap and, to be truthful, I could do with a new one. Anyone fancy bringing me a new one back next time they visit the Big Apple?