Grow on me...

Well where did that week go?

Bat out of Hell and the consumption of some (non) edible soap in a bicycle rickshaw seem a lifetime ago.  A lifetime taken up with timing of pain relief ('but mum, it says every eight hours on the pack'...'Bugger that, get it down your neck and quit moaning'), sessions at Binland and the creation of nutritional homemade meals the texture of Quaker Oats.  

We've yet to turn the corner the consultant warned us about.  In fact, we can't even see it on the straight road of pain which my poor girl finds herself on, but another forty eight hours should see her out on the other side of the tonsillectomy hell which has been the last four days.

But enough of my whinging.  It's not me with the screw top head traipsing around the house rattling like a half empty vitamin bottle while eating dubious looking food, I'm just being mum.

So I am looking forward to the weekend.  Even if daughter number two does take on the character of Maleficent either today or tomorrow, I shall enjoy the break from work, hospitals and other people's homes and concentrate on what poor plants are going to have the dubious pleasure of residing in my allotment this summer.

Over the years, I have learned several excellent lessons in the world of growing my own vegetables.  The main one is not to plant too much of the same unless it's a favourite food which all the family love.  A particularly bad memory is of the 320 Brussel sprouts which I harvested in November 2015.  I wouldn't mind, but no one in my family really likes these, but as it was Christmas, I felt that they were obligatory.  What I hadn't expected was for all eight plants to survive and flourish, which explained why we were still eating the damn things in May 2016.

And then there are those daft seeds stuck to a strip of tape.  These were an unmitigated disaster, and were replaced with two rounds of potted plants before I had any green stems winding their way up my bamboo sticks.

I suppose it's just as well that my parenting skills are better honed than my green-fingered ones...


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