A typical bank holiday weekend in the UK. 6am and its chucking it down. Still, think I, its good for the garden. I am immediatly reminded of a moment a few days back whilst in the green house when upon The Archers ending and Gardeners World being announced...I thought to myself, my how useful, that sounds interesting. I am infact 73.
Aside from prematurly aging 40 years, the last few weeks have been treating us very well. The garden looks great, although there is somthing of the forest about my peas, which still refuse to climb and simply lollop along the grass, despite my continued coaxing.The rhubard is pretty spritley and nearly pickable and I picked one leek-for no other reason than it was a decentish size and they have now been in since october and are officially the most boring vegatable to grow...ever. The sticky 'ornamental cherry' is making its best case for me not to chop it down and burn it come summer. I maintain if the thing only looks pretty for two weeks then looks like a large witches broom the rest of the time, its got to go.
Baby number 3 is making its presence felt in that I am very tired, although thankfully the sickness has now passed. Laurie came full of concern to see me lying on the sofa, 'Mummy, you look tired, would you like a spanner?'. I'm not entirely sure what I would have done with a spanner at that point but it was a caring thought. Mol has no grasp of the situation and if questioned simply points to her tummy and says baby. Although she did come inform the garden claiming she had been playing with her friend Hannah. She has no such friend but it was top of my baby names list. Spooky.
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