A week ago, we were in winter. Today, it was a warm and sunny spring day. Whatever one thinks about English weather, it is always interesting.
Of course, today the clocks changed to British Summer Time – an hour lost, but in all other respects, all to the good. If I support the cause of Scottish Independence, which I do (only I call it English Independence), then one of the reasons is that then each country would be able to make a decision regarding the bi-annual changing of the clocks according to its own interests.
Gardened in the afternoon, and am paying for it with a very uncomfortable hip this evening, and then cooked. The Sage dug up some leeks, which are still lovely, although they will all need to be eaten before they become woody in the centre, and we had some this evening with the roast chicken (freerange, from Sutton Hoo), roast potatoes and cauliflower (which, like the potatoes, was grown 6 miles away). I have made soup with the rest of the leeks, and a Bolognese sauce with the beef I bought on Saturday. Since I’m expecting a busy week, I am feeling awfully smug at the thought of all the meals I’ve prepared ahead. Though tomorrow, the meat will be stripped from the chicken and the bones will make stock for more soup. A frugal soul I am, and we eat the better for it.
Having said that, the garden is getting away from me badly. I just can’t do the digging any more, nor can I even carry anything heavy – fine if it’s bags by my side, but I can’t carry anything much ahead of me in my arms. Most frustrating, as I am perfectly well and strong. We know how we’d like to solve the garden problem, but it’s a pipe dream at present and not to be resolved yet. I’ll just have to teach Squiffany and Pugsley how to garden. Pugsley is good at filling seed trays with compost, and Squiffany is reasonably adept at sowing seeds in them, but I think they need a rake, a hoe and lessons in telling weeds from vegetable seedlings.