I have always fancied a grape vine bower. You know the kind of thing, a gnarled old vine wandering up and over a pergola, bunches of grapes ripening in the sunshine, a comfy couch to loll on in the shade beneath, and sun warmed grapes just a stretch away to feast on while the Kindle balances on one knee.
Yes, I had that picture clearly in my mind, so when we were planning the garden, I decided to plant a couple of vines against the courtyard wall, so that they could climb up a very natty wooden rail that Rob made, and shade part of the courtyard, enabling us to set up a couch/garden table and chairs/ice bucket and glasses/books and cushions etc. A very good idea in principle, but it was impossible to dig holes exactly where I wanted them, so the holes were dug where I could get the spade in more than 10 cms. And in went the vines to be tended and watered and trained to climb in the right direction. One died soon after and the other one battled on against the wind.