I realised yesterday that the published blog regarding cheese was my 500th one. How on earth did I miss that? What started off a couple of years ago as blathering on about holidays with Miss R, has now become a daily ritual, with around 5,000 generous souls taking a peek every so often to see what mischief I've got up to this time.
I looked back over some of the early days' offerings, and was shocked by my lack of punctuation and accuracy. One in particular was comparing the mountain biking husband to Barry Wiggins. Who the hell is Barry Wiggins? I did nip in and edit Stairway to Heaven, with a neatly 'cut and pasted' Bradley, but I felt slightly ashamed that I hadn't checked it before pressing the publish button. As the days have gone on, I have had several readers send me little messages along the lines of 'did you really mean "tart"?' or 'surely the husband doesn't really do that?' so now I double check and reread it all before I am finally happy to inflict it on you all.
And here is today's offering...
The weather has finally taken a turn for the better. How long this will last is anyone's guess (looking at the forecast, I'm putting money on Tuesday week) but we have to enjoy it while we can. With this in mind, the husband decided to throw caution to the wind and go and collect the three hanging baskets which adorn the back of the house every summer. I'm not sure whether I've mentioned this to you before, but when he ordered them, he was completely blown away when told that he couldn't collect them till the end of May. Now you and I all know that this is because of a possible late frost, but the husband, who is no gardener, is still getting over the shock. Actually, the one frost we did have took my wisteria, four tomato plants and three runner bean plants, so I'm quite relieved that the Obergruppenfuhrer in charge of the baskets stuck to his guns.
But seeing the sun yesterday morning, the husband decided that it was OK to go and get the baskets a week early, and bundling me and daughter number one into the car, we headed down to the garden centre.
'I've come to collect my three hanging baskets', said the husband with some force. The gentleman from the Hanging Basket Police looked at him with narrow eyes and said, 'If you'd come down here an hour ago, I wouldn't have let them leave here, but as the weather forecast has just improved, I'm going to let you have them'. Well, what a relief that was. I had pictures in my mind of a green-fingered stand off, with the two of them clutching trowels at 50 paces. Anyway, we were allowed to take them, and they were duly hung on their empty brackets yesterday morning.
Inspired by this, the husband decided to mow the lawn. You'll remember that we seeded the bare earth, where once a hedge had grown, and then decided to turf it. Consequently, this area of lawn has a double whammy of grass going on, and it took him several attempts to get it mowed.
I'm thinking of investing in a scythe for the next time.
Well, if it's good enough for Poldark...