Two more new foals and a whole kindergarten of lambs now on School Lane.
Daughter number two just called my mobile to ask me what to vote which reminded me that I haven’t yet… I’d be more enthusiastic if I didn’t live in a Tory stronghold.
I’ve been weeding after earthing-up potatoes and sowing the next succession of beetroot and parsnip, the latter marked by radish. Weeding has the same effect on me as ironing. I hate the thought of it and can easily turn-a-blind-eye but once started I enjoy the rhythm, perhaps my rebellion is against the routine not the activity.
It’s nearly 8pm and Sandy is silently willing me to call it a day – he’s probably right and it means we’ve time for a bluebell wood walk before dark as well as catching the polling station before it closes.
1 comment:
I couldn't help commenting on ironing because I love the smell of warmed up cloth! (especially cotton and courderoy)
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