On the menu!

On the menu!

Phew! The end of another busy week. I’m lying on the floor writing this to stretch my back and because I’m tired from all the fresh air and exercise as usual. We’re all bemoaning various comic aches and pains. Charlie had the ‘wheelbarrow incident’ which affected his shin, Benjy got caught by a spark from the bonfire on his mouth, and three of us have the Spring back.


In the Victorian glasshouse this camellia – a gift from Architect Michael – finally bloomed today. Such an intense colour.

Charlie and I were at Novikov yesterday. The journey from rural Suffolk to central London is such a fascinating transition and contrast. Luckily Charlie was driving, so I could concentrate on the incredible skyline. We brought lots of herb shaped goodies from the garden with us and look what Head Chef Marco created:


We are definitely on the menu! Slow cooked Spanish beef ribs with Brent Eleigh mixed frill salad and horseradish.

Today we were planting white currants, which involved lifting lots of Jerusalem artichokes which have been in the bed for far too long and a massive weed mission. It’s the most peaceful bed in the garden being by the chapel and the robin joined us as usual. Talking of taking a shine to particular creatures, imagine my surprise one break time when reaching into his rucksack, Benjy pulled out what I thought was his lunch. No. Two tiny goldfish in a bag were staring at me across the table. Apparently he was worried that the digger action nearby would kill the existing fish. Kill the fish?! These three stalwarts are old timers. Thus far they’ve survived the fish equivalent of the Somme, in isolation.

The Victorian water tanker now has rocks, aquatic plants and is well stocked with fish food. How did that happen? I guess these two latest additions  swiftly named ‘B’ and ‘E’ equal a shoal of goldfish. I’m not sure a certain person will be too happy if I move them to the lake as planned.

Had a really disappointing delivery today from a supplier we haven’t used before. Way below our standard. My bee sting earlier in the week was far less shocking. When I phoned to complain I was told that its what I ‘should expect’ from field grown stock. I don’t expect it. Finally – several calls, emails and photographs later they agreed to replace. What a complete and utter waste of everyone’s time.


A favourite thinking place for planning. Sitting on the steps of the Victorian glasshouse.

NEVER accept second best.

Have a great weekend X

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