Something of a conflict of interest in the shed today. Old Mousey, sitting on the workbench waiting for me today, clearly thinks he owns the shed. Given that he's been there more than me just lately he has a point. But making a nest in my box of teabags is going a bit far.
Did all those Chocolate Oranges i left him count for nothing? He'll be turning his nose up at ordinary Sainsbury's tea next and asking for Earl Grey or, heaven forfend, a nice bit of Lapsang Souchong for him and Mrs Mousey. And probably cucumber sandwiches too (he'll have to wait a bit for those; haven't even sown the seeds yet).
Well listen up, Mousey; this is taking liberties. From next week the teabags are in a tin; a tin tin, ideally with a picture of Tintin on it, innit? Let's see you blunt your mousey teeth on that, matey. Teabags indeed.
Digressing into Sheffield dialect for a moment, the only possible conclusion to an exchange like:
It's in the tin
No it isn't
Yes it is
No it isn't
'tin't in tin
Any road up, as they say in this northern enclave of blogland, allotment life has been very quiet lately (unless you're a Mouse), due to the massive diversion of having a new kitchen installed. No, not at the allotment. I've done enough for that mouse already. Before and after pictures below - I know you couldn't give a stuff really but we're proud of it.
On the plot, the onion sets have come alive, lord knows how cos there hasn't been a drop of rain since I put them in 3 weeks ago. But alive they are. Spuds in too - row and half of Charlotte and half a row of Nicola. King Edward's take up too much time and space and as for Prince Albert, let's not go there.
So, it being dry and all, I got the hose out and watered the onions, topped up the baths etc and naturally it started to rain. I am rain god. The baths are v useful for soaking the wooden stool. The weather has been so dry that all its joints have dried out and it's fallen apart. A couple of days in the bath and it'll be fine. Know how it feels.