Psychological warfare

Because Husband left wooden fence panels between the greenhouse and the raspberries I haven't been able to get in amongst them to do the bindweed clearing. (Yes, I could have moved them but I'm in bad mood as my legs and hands are covered in scratches so I'm blaming him.) As a result there is more bindweed than you could shake a stick at.

I wanted to pick some raspberries so I had to get in there but so many raspberry canes have been bent or broken by the bindweed it's frustrating. There is just too much to clear completely manually so I resorted to psychological weapons. "I hate you, evil bindweed! And it's not just me. Oh no, everyone hates you! How does it feel to be hated by so many. If I were you I'd curl up and die. Die Evil Bindweed, die! Some people may say they like your flowers but they don't know your true nature. They don't know how you like to choke the life out of innocent plants with your malicious grasping tentacles. Just remember: everyone hates you!"

Do you think it will work?

* * * * *

Here's the birthday boy with his cake last night.

And here's the pan of chilli I cooked this morning. When I added the beans I closed my eyes and hoped they'd all fit in. It was a close thing.

We have a food waste bin in the kitchen and it was empty before I threw in all my vegetable peelings. Just before I was about to go I had to discard something else and I opened the bin to see this:

Four slices of toast and a banana peel.

I scratched my head (figuratively or I'd have to had wash my hands again) and thought: how did that get there? Nobody else has been in here, and I definitely put the peelings in to a clean bin. But here was toast on top of whatever I had put in.

I messaged my fellow kitchen workers to tell them about it. "I think there's a ghost. A ghost who doesn't like toast. I did hear some funny noises earlier on . . ."

It wasn't until I'd left and was making my way to the car that I remembered. Tamsin, who comes in to sort clothes upstairs, had said something about finding things outside and putting them in the bin.

"It wasn't a ghost," I messaged the kitchen crew. "It was Tamsin."

In reply Stu said, "That’s a relief! We all just thought you were getting a bit old and going a little crazy!"

I mean, is that any way to talk to a crazy old lady?!

But the fact that I didn't even remember Tamsin coming into the kitchen . . .

Oh yes, and the nurse with overall responsibility for the homeless and vulnerable was just leaving Zac's when I arrived. She was saying that Swansea is the only place in the country that set up and has maintained seven day a week food provision for the needy. When churches work together we can do some good things.