Something for the weekend….

A little extra blog today in celebration of the sunshine actually lasting into the weekend…

I’ve reclaimed my garden today – well, the bits of it I laughingly refer to as ‘lawn’ at least. The rockery (pile of discarded bricks, paving slabs and angle iron) and shrubbery (nettles, brambles and royal hogweed) will have to wait for another day, but not a bad start, all things considered. I’ve probably mentioned it before, but the problem is, you see, that the garden lays a bit damp. Well when I say ‘bit’… Let’s put it this way: my garden makes Sir Ralph Mayhew’s bottom field look like the Gobi dessert… And when I say ‘lawn’ I’m actually referring to a couple of patches of moss, dandelions, watercress, bindweed and – in a very wet year – seaweed that separate the top of the garden, where all the local cats shit and my son keeps his trampoline, from the bottom of the garden, where my own cat shits and we keep the patio furniture and washing line. So not so much mowing the lawn as redistributing it, and bloody hard work it is too.

Having said that, after months of rain followed by days of sunshine even the watercress and dandelions had bolted and the garden had, to coin a horticultural term I originally picked up from Charlie ‘two lumps’ Dimmock, “Gone F*****g Mental.” Even the cat turds had sprouted, which is a first – though to be honest ‘sprouted’ is probably not the right word. It’s more of a fungal style life-cycle, truth be told, where they puff up to about three times their original size then burst with a gentle ‘pooff’, casting spores the entire length of the garden. I think I’ll take her off that hi-fibre ‘sensitive’ dry mix and put her back onto the wet stuff, actually. It may give her the squitts, but at least it seems biodegradable.

So that’s what I’ve been up to today, along with a week’s worth of washing and the usual Saturday dash round the supermarket to stock up on vittles, alkeyole and BOGOF bargains wot get thrown in the bin at the end of the week ‘cos there’s only so much veg you can eat in seven days even if you do reprocess half of it as soup. Yerse.

Just going to post this blog then it’s back out in the garden to get the washing in, followed by a week’s (honest ;)) worth of housework in anticipation of Ben’s mate coming for Sunday dinner tomorrow, then on with tonight’s din-dins which will be taken al fresco with an accompanying jug of Pimms which is currently twelve quid a litre in Tesco… Okay, that’s quite expensive for one night’s drinking considering you could get two bottles of bloody excellent wine for a fiver at Lidl, but you have to push the boat out occasionally don’t you? What? Lemonade? Really? You’re ‘aving a laugh, aren’t you?

Right. Onward and upwards. I’ve taken the easy route tonight and gone for a ‘Finest’ meal for two deal. Okay, it’s not gonna be the best thing we’ve ever eaten, but the creamed spinach will hit the spot with some buttered jersey royals and you can only do so much damage to a chicken breast, eh? And we’ve got a bit of homemade ice cream left in the freezer which will cuddle up quite nicely with the tart au citron, so Bob’s yer Uncle and Fanny’s yer wotsname.

Whatever you’re doing tonight/this weekend have fun and enjoy the sunshine. Tomorrow I’ll dig out the chicken brick and it’ll be that and jacket spuds. Ben’s BFF will be looking for a full Sunday roast despite the blistering heat, but just this once he can go piss up a rope ‘cos I’m not wasting the afternoon slaving away in a steamy kitchen just so he can have roast spuds and a yorkshire pudding…


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