Sodden, just sodden

Everywhere is sodden. I've had a day off and had planned to run amuck with my petrol strimmer to get rid of load of excess grassage & weedage. But it was too wet to set foot anywhere so it'll have to wait until things dry up (heroic assumption there!). In the meantime, here are a couple of week-old photos from before the monsoon.

And this monster is on the neighbouring plot. It rustles malevolently and looks at me in a funny way.

I'm with Whittingstall

The only good pigeon is a roast pigeon.

Why this burst of carnivorous spleen, you may ask?

Simple. The Fat Alberts have taken to eating my bean plants, necessitating a Colditz-style construction of chicken wire, bakery crates and a dead oak sapling to fend the b*st*rds off. Picture next time, if it (and the beans) survive. I'm not growing any brassicas this year cos the Fat Alberts just go for them too much; they've never gone for my beans before. Is it just spite?

*Fat Albert is services slang for the Hercules transport plane, to which pigeons show considerable resemblance as they swoop in for the attack on my beans. B*st*rds!

Filling Up

Everything is filling up on the plot. Emptied the big bath of foul sludge and filled with clean water, topped up the other three water butts and installed the world's smallest wildlife pond (aka recycled sink from the old kitchen).

Bean canes up (beans doing well at home), Transplanted 10 cucumber plants (ten!! Yes, ten; we like cucumbers!), a sub-plot of tomatoes and a lettuce plantation. What's the plural of lettuce? Lettuces sounds a bit like sheeps but Lettuce as a plural sounds a bit limp and unthinking. Letti?

And I've been Shirtless in Sheffield for three hours this morning so my back is a fetching shade of just-pink, not red, this evening. Attaboy.