short of my expectations.
The word coffee on the page, gets me strangely excited.
Opening the pack, the aroma has the same effect.
Even my daily, one cup of the real thing,
never really hits the mark.
The smell of fresh coffee,
somehow is so much better than the taste.
We have a fish and chip wagon that
parks every Wednesday evening by the village pond.
The fish is so fresh, the chips are crispy.
Every few weeks we treat ourselves.
Ted has cod and chips,
I have cod and nick five of his chips;
only the best looking ones naturally.
I open a tin of Farrows peas and the job's a goodun.
This chefette has a night off.
And of course you know what's coming...
the idea is so much better than the
partaking thereof.
Gardening I love,
particularly poring over the seed catalogues.
I choose the wackiest, the wildest,
the plants with attitude.
the plants with attitude.
I till, I scheme, I clear, I enjoy.
Every morning with the merest wisp of fabric covering my more than ample bits,
I promenade up to my potager. Shrinking violet I aint!
Mug of tea in hand, I proceed in the manner of a great and noble queen,
distributing alms to the poor.
All is good in my little world, well,
all the while I'm in control.
At vast personal expense I plunder my personal fortune
to employ the best pest controllers in the world.
They must always remember I am
the fat controller, what I say goes.
All frogs at my approach dive for cover, for fear of
a whiskery wet kiss being planted on their
slug-slimed face.
But wait, there is a power greater than mine, and
she goes under the name of...
Mother Nature.
And this is where my interest wanes.
She's a thug in female form.
All my winter plans go to pot; everything peeks,
looks spectacular, then at the speed of a rat up
a drainpipe, goes over.
The wild flower meadow is not to put too
fine a point on it, looking pale and wan.
Not at all like the wildflower meadow
Lady Constance lay in with the the gamekeeper.
The poppies, even with my dead-heading are
getting more frail by the minute.
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Err... I beg to differ Mr Kipling,
best you stick to baking cakes.
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best you stick to baking cakes.
Meanwhile back to my hammock, for a little light shadow gardening,
it's like shadow boxing only gentler.
Many years ago before deer grazed leisurely in my front yard, I always had a garden. You are right, Mother Nature is the BOSS! Not I, despite my fighting with her, she decided what did well and what did not.
ReplyDeleteBow to knowledge greater than ours David. Not politicians though... perish the thought!
DeleteLLX
my favourite disappointment is fruit tea. The only time it actually tastes of anything is if you inhale as you sip.
ReplyDelete"What flavour would you like" they always ask, and now I simply reply "pink please"
Fruit tea has no place in this residence. Brave guests sometimes enquire; Short Shrift is served... 'Would you like milk or a slice of lemon with that?' Tart is the word!
DeleteLLX
I simply cannot believe there aren't things that make LL sizzle with joy, though I think it's best to go with the flow when it comes to the garden - you CAN talk yourself into liking parched pansies and limp ligularias. I had a friend who once baked a batch of squidgy, deflated chocolate buns - instead of binning them she smiled divinely at us and asked, "Do you like them darlings?"
ReplyDeleteAnd we loved them, of course!
Were you telling porkies Nilly? Chocolate frisbees are all the rage I hear in the Vale of York this year.
DeleteLLX
Hello LL, No doubt I'm being awfully dim, but I can't find your email anywhere - only ways to email the posts. I think the fish mousse terrine is a really great idea and, as you said, it would work well for everyone, which is another thing I think is important.
ReplyDeleteI'd be grateful if you could send me the recipe (going shopping tomorrow afternoon in preparation). My email is elaine.appleby@btinternet.com I feel I should say something like this message will self-destruct in 10 seconds, but it won't...so would you mind deleting it for me? Many thanks.x