Browsing Posts published in July, 2010

Its Saturday! 17/07/10

This Saturday, the weather had definitely ‘broken’ with a mixture of sunny intervals, interspersed by some pretty hefty downpours.

It didn’t dampen our spirits, however!  Okay, it meant almost continually dodging back to the awning we had put up by the metal shed every time the heavens opened, but it gave us all chance to chat, and of course indulge in yet more Plot Tea and various cakes and pastries brought by our growing group of ‘Top Chefs’.

A selection of 'baby' root vegetables.

A selection of 'baby' root vegetables.

Here is a photo of some of the ‘baby’ root vegetables thinned out by Nick.

These had been planted very thickly, so over the last few weeks, Nick has gradually thinned out the weakest to allow the strongest to grow to a decent size.

Someone asked at the time if it was worth trying to re-plant some of these, but it was pointed out by an older and wiser ‘Plotter’ that in moving them, they would likely ‘bolt’ and try to go straight to seed.

Still, nothing’s wasted as the majority of these went in the pot to help with the Allotment Soup expertly prepared by various volunteers.

Towards the top, we have beds of onions planted last autumn, some garlic, also planted last autumn, then on the other side of each bed, Spring planted onions.  This was as a ‘trial’ to see which grew best.

Garlic 'flowers'.

Garlic 'flowers'.

Nick was up by the uppermost bed on Saturday, and couldn’t help noticing this:-

It seems that the garlic has ‘flowered’ and self-seeded.

This week, Nick will investigate further (…Of course, with more photos…), and see if these really are garlic seedlings that can be planted out and grown.

Watch this space for details…

Celeriac, shooting up.

Celeriac, shooting up.

Elsewhere, on the bottom ‘Demonstration Plot’, the bed of celeriac planted out by Nick and Diane just the other day has really taken off!

If you click on the photo a couple of times, you can clearly see the outer ‘yellow’ leaves from when they were a little ‘pot bound’, but the newer ‘inner’ shoots, ‘heading for the sky’ are a vibrant and healthy green.  Good news!

Also, Nick found while surfing for celeriac, an entry on ‘Wikipedia’ that said the hollow stalks of celeriac have been used in the past as ‘drinking straws’ with which to consume ‘Bloody Marys’ -the famous vodka and tomato juice drink, giving the drink a distinctive ‘celery’ flavour.

Well, we really must try this -of course, without the vodka!

Oca in flower.

Oca in flower.

Back on the uppermost plot, just along from the many rows of all different varieties of potatoes, we have the bed of oca planted by Diane and Jon a few months ago.

Again, Nick noticed that they have come into a very pretty little yellow flower, just visible above the ‘clover-like’ leaves that make this so distinctive.

Not having grown this before, we can’t wait to see what happens when we un-earth them in a few months time!

More from The Plots very soon…

First Parade and Boot Camp.

Mitzi’s thoughts on the day.

Well, the day dawned bright and I was up and ready especially early.  Today was the day I was posted my new ‘recruits’ in the onging war on the Evil Axis forces that threaten our entire existence, our very way of life down here at The Plots.

Private Odin was the first to arrive with his father Ian.

Ian let him out of his transport, and he came shyly out, seemingly unused to the bright daylight.  Well, on first inspection, what a particularly fine recruit!  His fine, black coat was freshly washed -even behind the ears!

He was brought over to meet his new superior officer, and we briefly touched noses in the customary ‘cat way’.  This boy smelled good!

I took a moment to look him over more fully, moving slowly round him, sniffing in various places, as you do, and apart from the slight signs that he’s been somewhat over-pampered (…okay, he was a little ‘fat’, but that’ll soon come off!..), I could instantly see that this was officer material!

He has bright, green eyes, a long, aristocratic face, alert ears, and fine whiskers.

After he’d got ‘settled in’ and stowed his kit, I took him on a tour of our facilities, including our new HQ (…okay, we haven’t got the signage up yet, but Big Person Emma will hopefully be seeing to that…), and he seemed very impressed.

One thing I did notice was his accent.  No doubt ‘Public School’ because he was very well spoken, polite and courteous, and, well, he speaks like a gentleman.

Then came full inspection and the review of his record to see if he could rise to the rank of sergeant and become a full member of The Corps.

   “Private Odin!!” I called out.
   “Yes, SAH!!!” he replied.
   “You know why you’re here, lad?”
   “Yes, SAH!!!”
   “Then I need evidence of your ‘special ops’ training, specifically ‘The Mouse Simulator’ device your father mentioned.”
    “Yes, SAH!!!  Spent MANY hours on the simulator, SAH!!!”
    “Are you any good, Private?” I asked.
   “Yes, SAH!!!  Can confirm kill within fifteen seconds of switch-on, SAH!!!”
   “Excellent.  I need to see you in action, Private!”
   “Yes, SAH!!! Immediately, SAH!!!”

And with that, Odin’s father brought out the simulator, and true to his word, he ‘killed it’ well within the fifteen seconds required.  Immediate promotion!

   “Private Odin, I now promote you in-the-field to be ‘Acting Sergeant’!  Well done!”

And that was that!

Private Alfie, on the other hand was an entirely different matter.

He and his father arrived late (…I really cannot stand tardiness…), apologising profusely.  Nick let him out of his case, and blow me if he didn’t scamper straight off!

Obviously, this lad was well used to the ‘Great Outdoors’, and this will, I have to say, stand him in great stead in the coming weeks and months.

   “Aaaaallllfffiiiieeee!!!” called his father, obviously used to this intolerable behaviour.  This private would quickly need teaching a lesson!

   “Come here, laddo!” called his dad, and sure enough, after just an annoying amount of time, he poked his head through the long bushes and grasses.

Well, I must say he looked a completely different cat to the idle slob I had seen in the photos!  His head was erect and his tail straight up, eyes bright.  Could this really be the same animal, I asked myself.  Then I looked more closely at his fur, and realised that yes, it was the same cat I’d seen in the photographs.  His fur had great patches missing -no doubt clawed out in fights- and beneath these holes, he had newly-formed scar tissue.  His head in particular was a complete disgrace with scratches, more patches of fur missing, freshly healing scabs all over.  This lad had certainly been ‘in the wars’, and seemed strangely proud of it!  Whem I looked him over more fully, I immediately saw the reason.  This young recruit hadn’t been newtered!

This could be good for The Corps, in that Alfie will always be ready for a fight, but it could be bad if he starts trying to ‘chat me up’!  My goodness me, no…

   “Private Alfie!” I barked.
   “Sah!” he replied   
   “You know why you’re here, Private?” I asked.
   “Yes, Sah!”
   “Apparently, you have knocked out an enemy pigeon patrol, single-handedly?”
   “Sah!”
   “Do you have PROOF of this, Private?”
   “Yes, Sah!  My father has it right here in a bag for inspection, Sah!” he replied.

And with that, his father opened a bag, and sure enough, a dead pigeon lay inside.

Putting it on the ground, Nick laid it out for inspection.

   “Why is this pigeon wet?” I asked, suspicions raised.
   “Er, it must have got sweaty in the bag, Major.” replied Nick.
   “Hmmmm…”

I thoroughly checked the carcass, and could find no other fault with it.  It must be true!  Private Alfie really did bring down a pigeon!

   “Okay, Private!” I commanded,  “You are now hereby given a field-promotion to ‘Acting Sergeant’, the same as Odin!  Join him and fall-in!”

And with that, they both did, though Sergeant Alfie’s demeanour was a little lacking, and he was too-easily distracted.

That day, I was very easy on the pair of them.  Sergeant Odin because he is so new to this ‘Outdoors Life’, and Sergeant Alfie because I wanted to put him at his ease to see what was underneath his outer ‘laddish’ shell.

So, I can report that the first batch of new recruits is so-far fitting in very well, but the first training session will sort the cats out from the kittens.

Oh yes.

Alfie and the woodpigeon.

Nick had just got home from a hard day’s work at The Plots.  He was bone-weary.  His arms hurt, his legs hurt, his feet? Sheesh, he didn’t want to even go there.

Dumping his bag, he made his way into the kitchen, switched on the kettle and made himself a cup of tea.  Not Plot Tea -the spoon didn’t stand up by itself, but pretty close.

“Where’s my cat?” he thought. “I let him out this morning after his second breakfast…”

Going out to the back door, he called him in with the familiar whistle and click.

“Aaaalllfffiiiieeeeee!” he called, oblivious to the mystified stares of an elderly couple just passing the door, laden down with shopping, their shoulders stooped.

“Come on, boy!  Where are you?” he shouted.

With that, there was the now-familiar rustle in the long grass past the back door, and sure enough, a black head poked through, carrying something large in it’s mouth.

“What have you got, laddo?” asked Nick.

“Mmpphh mpghrphhhh mmmppprrhphh..” came the reply.

With that, Alfie jumped down from the high wall leading to the grass, nearly over-balancing with the obvious weight in his mouth.

There was a ‘thud’ as he opened his jaws and what looked like the remains of a pigeon fell from his mouth.

“See!  Told you I wouldn’t let you down!” he said excitedly, wrapping himself round his dad’s legs in pleasure.

“Well done, my boy!” exclaimed Nick, the earlier tiredness now forgotten.  “You’ve done really well!” he said, bending down to scratch his son on the head and tickle him behind the ears in the way he knew his cat loved.

“Well, let’s take it inside and have a further look, shall we?”

With that, he bent down to pick up the pigeon, opened the back door and Alife, proud as punch, calmly walked ahead, into the entryway of the flat.

“Well, let’s have a closer look at this chap then, shall we?” said Nick happily, clearing some space on the over-crowded kitchen worktop.  Pots and pans and more than a couple of days worth of washing-up was piled up there, but they were temporarliy forgotten.  His lad had made his first ‘proper’ kill!  All the while, Alfie excitedly wrapped himself round and round his dad’s legs, pleased that his dad was so happy with him.

“Right,” said Nick after switching on the overhead lights. “Let’s see what we have here…” he bent closer to the bedraggled-looking object.

“Alfie…,” he slowly began. “You did catch and kill this thing, didn’t you?” asked Nick.

“Of course, dad!” came the reply from somewhere near Nick’s ankles.

“But, well, look here!” said Nick, in accusing tones. “This thing’s got fresh tire marks on it!”

“Eh?  Nah!  That’s just a coincidence!” said Alfie. “It must have been hit after I got it, and before I killed it, it…” his catty mind now racing into overtime, “…Yes!” he exclaimed, his mind now magically clearing, “That was it!  I got it, but it was still alive, and it half-flew into the road an’ it got hit by a car, but it was still alive, and when the car had gone past I raced out bravely into the road, an’ dragged it over to the edge, an’ I broke it’s neck in my powerful jaws, an’ now it’s dead!” he finished, excitedly. “See?  Dead as a doornail!”

Nick slowly shook his head, tutting to himself.  This could be trouble.  BIG trouble if Mitzi found out.

“Okay, lad.  I know you weren’t that keen on joining The Corps, but you seem to have come round to the idea.  I know you want to join, and I know you’ll try really hard if, when she accepts you.  Here’s what we’ll do….”

With that, Nick carefully carried the pigeon into the bathroom to the sink, and carefully washed the incriminating tire marks from the bird.  Taking an old towel, he carefully dried it off as best he could, then returned to the kitchen to place it onto the worksurface for the rest of the night.  Hopefully, by the morning, it would be fully dry, and Major Mitzi wouldn’t suspect that Private Alfie, soon-to-be Sergeant Alfie had lied his way into The Corps.

All that evening, Nick kept glancing up from his computer while he was working, looking over at the bird laid out in the kitchen.  He couldn’t shake the sense of dread that if they were found out- he and his lad, it would mean not only the end of any hopes of his son being in the elite squadron, but also his own future down at The Plots would be in question too.

Could the pair of them pass it off?  Could they both lie to Major Mitzi in such a brazen manner?

Well, tomorrow morning they would both find out, for tomorrow was Saturday, and Saturday was the Plot day!

With one final glance at the pigeon, Nick shook his head, switched off his computer and slowly made his way to bed.  Alfie, who’d gone to bed early tonight -to be fresh for the morning, briefly raised his head and gave his dad a knowing look from his place at the foot of the bed.

“G’night, son.” said Nick. “Let’s just get tomorrow over with, eh?”

“G’night, dad.” came the reply. “Amen to that.”

And with that, Nick switched off the bedside lamp, turned over and very quickly fell asleep.  Alfie, too, fell back to sleep, dreaming cat-dreams.  Nick’s sleep however, was troubled, his mind turning and turning.  Tomorrow’s gonna be tough! he thought to himself.

Text of Conversation between Lieutenant Odin and his Father recorded at their home 24 hrs ago:-

    “Hello old boy, I’m awfully proud that you past your basic training.”
   “Thank you Sir!”
   “Ah you will be in for promotion in no time!”
   “Steady on now father I not really sure that I am cut out for this hullabaloo…”
   “Now listen here boy, we have a tradition in this family and you will up hold it even if it means you have to take my place first in the family tomb!”
   “Hmmmm that’s what I am afraid of”…

This officer has undergone his basic training and past with flying colors. However I feel duty bound to bring to your attention his (to put it delicately) shortfalls.

He has great enthusiasm and often because of this jumps in first before considering all his options. He shows a total disregard for safety and may lead to problems during his first tour of duty. He shows disrespect for the lower ranks in risking their safety too.

Officer Mitzi may be well advised to keep him close by her side, take him under her wing so to speak.

He does however have a total belief in the war, which could lead to his untimely downfall.

His father will not put up with any disgrace, and may I remind you that when he is around in operations that he is an influential Politician and would not look kindly to any family disgrace.

Regards, Military Intelligence

This is a Top Secret Memo and must be destroyed without fail.

“Aaaaaallllfffiiiieeeeeee!!!!!” cried Nick as he unlocked the door, expecting his cat to hurl himself in love and adoration on him.  …But a strange hush filled the flat.

“Aaaalllfffiiieeeeee!!!” he tried again.

Nothing.  Zero.  Zilch.  Squat.

“Alfie, you great, big fat, idle animal!  Where are you?” he said, looking around.  Under the chairs, behind the sofa, in the kitchen.  No cat.  …No sign of cat.  Where on earth was the big lazy lump?

A slight rustle from under the duvet.  Then a larger, cat shaped thing appeared, head poking from under the soft, warm covers.

“Wzzpfggll?” it said, still mostly asleep. “Grgghhtyr? <cough>” then clearer; “Dinner?..”

“You fat, idle animal!” exclaimed Nick, “Have you been there all day?!”

“Well, I was really tired after last night with the lads, and well, you weren’t using it, so I thought I’d keep it warm for you…” he trailed off, a little embarassed that he’d been caught for the third evening on the trot in his dad’s bed.

“Listen, kiddo, we have a problem!

“Wassat, dad?”

“Well, your papers have been revised.  Says here you have to be a sergeant to be in ‘The Corps’, and you, well, you’re still only a Private!  What we gonna do, eh?”

“Pheeeewwweeee…  …Er.  Dunno.” said Alfie, all the while carefully licking a rather tender bit of bald patch that had until the early hours of this morning and his rather, er,  unfortunate meeting with ‘Big Tigger’ been quite reasonable fur.

“Is there a way round it?” he said, between licks.

“Says here, you can earn your stripes by having ‘Special Operational Abilities’.”

“Well, I have been known to fart quite spectacularly, especially when you’re in the bath!” he exclaimed.

“Don’t think that’s quite what they mean, son, but look here.  Says here that if you can prove you’ve taken out one of their ‘Airborne Division’, then you can get straight in.  You ever taken down a pigeon?  A wood pigeon, son?’ Nick asked hopefully.

“Wood pigeon?  No danger!  Listen, dad.  Gimme a couple of hours when I’ve got a full belly, know what I mean? and I’ll bring you back a freshly caught wood pigeon.  No danger!”

“Ah, son, there’s the problem.  Will you have caught it?!” said Nick, full-well knowing the answer, or avoidance of it.

“As if!” cried Alfie, now fully awake, confident that the bald patch would heal, but would leave a wonderful scar.  Something to proudly show off to Young Twinks if he met her tonight.

Of course I’ll er, ‘have a hand’ in catching it”, he said, confident that ‘Big Blue’ would be pretty easy to ‘tap up’ later on.  After dinner.  “C’mon, dad!  Feed me now, then Ill go out and get one and bring it back for you to show this uppity tart tomorrow.”

“Easy, Big Fella!  That’s no Bimbo we’ve got down The Plots!  She’s smart, she’s fast, she’s elegant, well, she’s everything you’re not!!” exclaimed Nick.

“No danger, dad.  Now feed me, and I’ll go out and sort it out.  The lads won’t let either of us down, just you wait and see!” said Alfie.  Dinner would be coming very shortly, he could tell.  Then out to source some medal-winning prey.

No danger!

“Oooooodddddiiiiiiinnn!” cried Ian as he raced up the stairs.

“Er, bit of a problem, old lad.” he said, gasping for breath after the recent exercise, “Seems there’s been some cock-up with your papers.  It says here that you can’t join The Corps unless you have at least a ‘Sergeant’s Stripes’!”

“What?  …Oh, blast!  Let me think.  Maybe there’s some way round this wretched rule?”

“Well,” Explained Ian, “It says here you can earn them by either downing one of The Axis’ airborne units, or if you have ‘Special Operational Abilities’.  What does that mean, do you think?”

“Well, father, that could mean that new mouse-simulator you brought back just the other day, yes?  After all, when I’d ‘got it’s measure’ I was all over it!”

“Hmmm…” said Ian, scratching his chin, “I guess…  Tell you what, lad.  On Saturday, I’ll chat with Major Mitzi and see what she says.  I guess it couldn’t harm to mention the simulator, could it?”

“No, father.  I’m sure she’ll understand, and, well, if it has all been a ‘paperwork error’, I’m sure she’ll understand and accommodate me.”

“Yes, son.  I’m sure she’ll understand.  Leave it with me.”

“Great, pater.  Oh, and by the way; you wouldn’t happen to be making me any dinner about now, would you, only I’m starving!

“Okay, son.  Dinner will be served very shortly…”

Orders from HQ.

Incoming orders:  
From ALLIED HQ. 
Date/Time: Thursday 15/07/10 22.00 hours.
Attn: Major Mitzi (Special Forces)
"Major,
Re: Your two new recruits.
You must understand that your two new recruits must be of at least the rank 
of SERGEANT.
We understand that there have been problems with chains of command and of 
communication and that they are only ranked as Privates.
To achieve rank of SERGEANT they must have either special operational 
abilities, or have shot down at least one of the enemy's flying squadron.
END."

Beautiful beans in bud. 15/07/10

Well, alliteration aside, they’re in flower actually.

Dwarf beans in flower.

Dwarf beans in flower.

This was just a quick shot of some of our many dwarf beans now in flower, and I was struck by just how beautiful these flowers really are!

Notice as well, that because these were planted from seed and kept in our temporary plastic greenhouses before planting out when they had quite a few leaves, they have missed the ‘sluggings’ that happened so disastrously last year.

If you look very closely at the centre few, you’ll see the flower petals have now dropped off, revealing the tiny beans inside.

In just a few weeks, and given plenty of water (…Apparently you can never ‘over-water’ peas and beans…), these will be ready for picking and cooking.  And eating.  And freezing.  …And whatever recipes we can find from the Internet to preserve and keep them.

(Editor’s note:  Actually these beans were planted straight in the ground from seed.  You got it wrong,  Muppet!)

A lot a’ shallot! 15/07/10

Nick took this picture today, and for him, it was quite a learning experience.

Shallots, ready for harvesting.

Shallots, ready for harvesting.

Nick, in his ignorance, had assumed (…aaah, that dreaded word…) that like onions grown from ‘sets’, shallots did the same.

Not so, Mr Ward!

When plant a shallot, you plant a single shallot then after a few months patient watering, weeding and occasional feeding, you get this:-

Not one, but eight shallots!

So, they grow in cloves in a similar manner to garlic, and yet taste like onions.

Maybe next year, we should have a bit of a ‘competition’ to see who can grow the greatest number of cloves from a single shallot?

Over the last couple of weeks, we’ve been raving about our new greenhouse and how it is now finally finished.

Actually, this was a bit of a fib.

Yes, we’ve got the glazing in the greenhouse, and yes, we’ve got stuff planted in it, but it still leaked through the roof!

This was because we hadn’t fitted the covering for the roof’s apex, so water came in through various holes drilled in the very top of the apex and also in the ‘join’ where the two halves of it meet in the middle.

Diane had recently found a couple of strips of what looked like the original strip, but then she and Matt couldn’t be sure.

Now of course, if we’d used our heads, we would have realised that this top strip should have gone on before we fitted the glazing, but we were so excited to be finally getting the glazing in that somehow this vital piece was ‘forgotten’.

So, yesterday, Matt and Nick fitted one of the ‘most likely’ looking strips which covered roughly a third of the length of the roof.  It turned out that this section was from the greenhouse originally, so they fitted it on the end towards the doorway.  The other piece was actually a length of black plastic guttering that had been knocked off the back of the metal shed when the nearby sycamore had been taken down earlier in the year.

Today, at Matt’s suggestion, they decided to fit the other two.  The first one would be the one for the far end of the greenhouse, and the final one would be a piece of grey plastic guttering found nearby to fit over the centre section and neatly overlap the inward ends of the other two, thereby making a watertight seal.  In theory…

Fitting the final piece.

Fitting the final piece.

The first piece today went on pretty easily with two nuts and bolts holding it down.

The final piece for the centre, when they stopped to think about it became impossible to fit by ‘conventional’ methods.  Mainly because it wasn’t long enough!  A quick scout round and it was decided that the length of black plastic guttering still left on the metal shed would have to come off and be used.

So, to secure it to the roof, they intended to use the two inner-most nuts and bolts already holding the inner ends of the end pieces already in place.

Now the impossible bit…

The last piece of black plastic guttering had no holes drilled to put the bolts through.  Measuring the distance between them by more, er ‘traditional’ methods was deemed ‘Too Pratty’ and downright inaccurate, so what could they do?

Matt came up with the answer!  Using a long length of wood and a pair of litter-picking ‘pincers’, he managed to fit the final piece in position and hold it securely with the wooden planking (…see above…), while Nick stood on a chair and using the battery drill, simply drilled through the existing holes in the greenhouse and the first layer of guttering then through the new layer of guttering, thereby putting the hole through.

Great!

…But ‘Er, Huston, we have a problem…’ when they realised that they would somehow have to get the bolt through and into this hole with its head being on the outside.

This is where Matt’s genius with the ‘litter pickers’ came to the fore!

While Nick stood under the hole inside the greenhouse to direct him, Matt managed after only a few attempts to get it through the hole!

“Quick, Nick!!”  He shouted, “Grab a hold of that thread and pull while I get this lump of wood in position to hold it down and flat!”

Nick dutifully did, and when Matt had got the lump of wood in position over the head of the bolt, he threaded the nut on and spun it up and tight.

Not believing their luck, they stood back to admire their work.  Okay, one down, one more to go…

Screwing up the last nut and bolt.

Screwing up the last nut and bolt.

They repeated the perfomance with the holding down with the length of wood while Nick drilled the hole, then Matt grabbed the last bolt and large washer with the litter picker, climbed the ladder and…

Miraculously, it went straight through the newly-drilled hole, straight through the existing hole in the previously fitted black guttering and straight through the metal of the shed apex!

Nick scampered up the ladder on hearing Matt’s shouts of joy and pulled down the long thread of the bolt while Matt frantically got the length of wood with which to hold down the bolt and two pieces of plastic, allowing Nick to tighten the nut.  Truly amazing teamwork!

Of course, this has a downside.

Now, every time Diane sees a problem as being insurmountable, all she (…thinks she…) has to do is call on Matt and Nick’s services, expecting to see a miracle.

Well, we guess they’ll have to wait and see what happens…

Elsewhere on The Plots, it was ‘major fruit picking’ with volunteers, armed with punnets wading through bushes or bent double picking strawberries.  In particular, the gooseberry bushes put up a valiant fight to hold onto their precious fruit, and no doubt this evening, much ‘Savlon’ has been used to calm the many scratches, cuts and ‘bites’ by these fearsome plants.

Rosanna and the 'wild strawberries'.

Rosanna and the 'wild strawberries'.

Here is a shot of one our newest volunteers, Rosanna, holding a punnet of our ‘wild strawberries’.  You’ll have to click on the photo a couple of times to see them as they are so small!

Taste-wise, these are quite different to ‘normal’ or ‘conventional’ strawberries, with their own distinct flavour.

In the author’s opinion, they are ‘Action Man-sized’, and really not worth the effort to pick!

So, finally is a picture of our finally, utterly finished greenhouse:-

Finally, finally finished greenhouse.

Finally, finally finished greenhouse.

If you click the photo a couple of times, you can just see the black line of guttering on the top of the apex, keeping out virtually all of the rain.

Well, we say virtually because there is a slight hole where the two halves of the greenhouse meet, as was amply demonstrated this afternoon in one of the frequent downpours, but a little ‘gobbo’ (…a tradesman’s technical term…) from up above will seal that, no problem.

So, as it stands, there won’t be any work done tomorrow as everyone has other much less fun things to do, but we’ll be back on Saturday for yet more strawberry picking and no doubt a roaring fire to roast spuds on.

Stay tuned for our further exploits!

N.B. As ever, when there are loads of voulnteers doing loads of different things, the author finds it nearly impossible to name everything (…and everyone…) that was happening.  The above was just what was happening near him at the time, and is in no way meant to detract from all our volunteers’ valiant efforts doing many, many different and vital jobs! -RCW


SEO Powered By SEOPressor