A short post, typed through gritted teeth…can you type through gritted teeth? When I was young, and naughty (which of course was a very rare occurrence) my mother would say despairingly “I could give you away with half a pound of tea!”
So, puppy, anyone? Very nice tea, Clipper, organic. Very naughty dog though. No-one with any sense would want him, however good the tea.
The crime? Well it’s gardening related. Over at Purple Podded Peas Celia has some excellent staff, Undergardeners par excellence. Weeding, hoeing, pest clearance, manure…they are the business!
Here? Well, the Head Gardener is happy to put in an appearance…
…but is pretty laid back these days.
Over enthusiastic and won’t take instruction. Has been given a verbal warning.
After two afternoons spent tidying and clearing the vegetable garden and hoiking the weeds out of the raised beds out came the seed packets to see what I could get going in the one bed I’d had the cover on for a couple of weeks to warm up the soil. I sowed half a bed, salad leaves, chives, spring onions, red spring onions, radishes, carrots…and in pots sowed basil, dill and coriander. Tired by then,and thirsty, I popped in for a well deserved cuppa and came out to…chaos…
The Undergardener had heaved himself on his stumpy little legs over the sleeper which formed the bed, and into the nice, soft, fluffy compost and it’s neat rows of seeds and, well, I don’t know…disco dancing? mining? fossil hunting?
No more neat rows…no more labels…even the labels in the pots had been taken out and chewed…I won’t know if it’s basil, or dill, or coriander until they’ve grown big enough to taste…
So that’s why Higgins is lying in his bed looking worried about the packet of tea. But do you know? In the end my Mum didn’t give me away either….