The good, the bad, and the gardener

Look at my potatoes!

Remember a couple of weeks ago I planted some potatoes that had gone to seed in the pantry? They've grown! I am so excited. I am more used to failure so always over-compensate with the glee.

Someone said I needed to earth them up so I've put extra earth around.

That's the good.

The bad is that I may have dug up the bulbs I planted previously. I don't know what they are but I've replanted and labelled them.

I hadn't intended to attack the brambles; it just happened. I wouldn't have worn my now holey woolly jumper if it had been planned. Then I began on the bindweed. On the principle that talking nicely to plants is good for them I started to bad-mouth the bindweed, but couldn't do it. I was on the point of comparing it, saying I hated it more than Farage - but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Much as I despise bindweed for throttling my raspberries and roses and gooseberries I couldn't say it was worse than that hideous man. Quite a claim: I think less of Farage than I do of bindweed.