As I walked out one midsummer morning...

Friday was mine.

Ted was doing what millions have done for

thousands of years...

Tai Chi.

Lettice had caught up with the village news.

Me... I was free.

Scotney first, I just can't seem to keep away.

Turning left onto the Hastings road,

I drove with a determined mission in mind.

Here we are having a frog-fest; the vegetables are

enjoying the calm of a slimy-slug battle won.

And a battle won, not on the back of chemicals,

but by the assiduous use of croakers-a-go-go.

The potager proudly boasts two ponds,
alright pathetic plastic I know...
although...
our amphibians don't seem to mind.
Under the garden tap I upturned a
compost bin base to catch any drips.
And guess what?  We now have another
frog squat.
Well, I could feel the need for another
water feature in the garden bubbling up from deep inside.
That was to be my mission for the day.
Arty-farty, something different;
no more petrochemical extravaganza here.

Pot... yes
Fibre glass... no
Metal... maybe
New... no
Interesting... yes
half barrel... maybe
Galvanised... YES
Naff... no (can't believe I said that?)
Old... maybe

The mission became more fruitless
as I, like a tom trawling for trade 
 covered the county.

I landed at my most favourite nursery
of all...

You can catch up with them on twitter or facebook...

I'm lucky enough to live close enough to call.
They are well worth a detour if you're in Kent.

I told Emma what I was looking for,
she said that Monty would be back in a minute,
with just the thing.

Low and behold, in the back of the van,
was exactly the item I was looking for...
HUGE roll of drums as peering into the back of the 
wagon I spied the Windsor Castle of a frog's palatial
residence...
A galvanised pig trough.
It was love at first snout.

Ted always complains that we can never get out of a 
garden centre without paying the exit fee of at least 30 quid...
Errr...
What with inflation and the pound in free-fall
that figure has now had to be seriously,
yes, you read right...
 seriously quantitatively eased.

 Huffing and puffing, and with muscles
strained to breaking point, the mighty Monty and me
managed to shoe-horn the wondrous water feature 
into the Smart.
Like a pig in shit I drove home.

I've arrived home with some things in me time;
nothing now fazes him indoors. I softened him up
with the immortal words...
'I've found just the thing!'
Followed hard on the heels...
'You know what you always say about me and gardening
emporiums, well this time it's nothing like!'
He visibly brightened...
Then I went and spoilt it!

Staggering out to the Smart, still in a state of
profound shock, he hung on the side of the
pig trough carrier and peered in.

It was a two man job to get it out of the car 
and with lots of stops on the way, we
managed to man-handle it up the steps 
to the top plot.

I've just tip-toed up the wet garden this morning,
to see if the very disgruntled frog, we
evicted yesterday, has taken up residence.
I'm afraid there is no sign...
there's gratitude for you.

Yesterday I finished off my gardening 
by planting out the Brussells sprouts.

Today is a wet Saturday and I feel

the studio calling.

So I will give the thumb, a sewing go...

wish me luck.

Reminder to self...
Must remember to press my lycra shorts;
tomorrow I'm off to spend the day at
a cycling feeding station in a local
village hall.

My cunning plan is, as the weary cyclists
fall into the door, the sight of me offering
refreshments in lycra, might encourage them to
cough up pennies for the Air Ambulance?
It may have the adverse effect and make them jump on
their bikes with fear pumping the pedals.
Who knows?
Only time will tell!

☂☂☂