i can’t wait to have a garden #716

Last weekend, Marj, a famous-ish actress and the mother of the man who owns downstairs, but lives in Brooklyn (the HH to NY pilgrimage is surely now the traditional Herne Hillian rite of passage) rang to make sure that I am using the garden ‘darling”. So I’ve shaken off feeling like a burglar and I have enjoyed the pleasures of owning a garden, although I refuse to use the house for anything other than peeing.

On Friday night Dr P from work came round. Against my better judgement and against all my firm held beliefs that Bar-B-qd food is merely burnt food, we had burned sausages and salad. It was a lovely night with red clouds and clear skies and as the huge glowing moon came from behind the big red clouds I felt like I was looking at a view from space. After eating we settled onto the rug in the garden and to my absolute delight a baby bat circled the garden for absolutely ages. I shall have to look out for it again.

However I soon discovered that having a garden is not all fun. Catster and Perry came around on Saturday for some garden squatting and I immediately smelt do do. No, not them. It took a while to locate the pong but hundreds of flies eventually alerted me to the area where an animal had been growing a collection of long thin turds. I suspect a fox or cat. I threw some compost on it but found a lot of that sprayed all over the lawn on Sunday morning. What a responsibility. Cat became initiated in a CNL day as we spent hour after hour lounging in the sun drinking Pimms and vodka, playing cards and building wind shelters. Jimbob she’s a quick learner and really very good, so be warned.

On Sunday I went to see the folks and visited Daddy’s allotment. I’m due to dig the spuds again on Sunday. His tomatoes have gone mental whereas mine only have a couple of flowers. I’m not growing them indoors again, it doesn’t work. Everything has grown according to plan, this includes, among other things, a new found style of round courgette, red and white onions, potatoes, carrots, cabbages, beetroot and his Swedes are HUGE! Wow, I cannot wait to have a garden.

Naturally I watched the World Cup final. They showed it at the venue before Nitzer Ebb came on stage. I wanted France to win because of Henry and because once again I fell in love with Zidane. He is my perfect model of a man and I feel that he head butted the chest of another to dispel the love of all French men. He’s a man not a myth. And I love him.

Please don’t mention Celebrity Love Island. Even in jest.