How was it for you?

The temperature hit 32.9 in the shade in our garden this afternoon. I know that's practically winter for some of you but for us it's high. And in places it was even higher. Then this happened.

And it rained for all of ten seconds. 

Meanwhile in the greenhouse the tomatoes are flourishing. A warm sweet tomato straight off the bush. Delicious.

And, just because, here's a daisy.

George and the Trail of Destruction

You remember I said the camera was working again? Its time of remission was short-lived: it's broken again. The little flap thing won't.

So I couldn't take photos to show how George, single-pawedly, is destroying our garden (as well as our home).

This is only a short little video. Do watch it if you are thinking of getting a Golden Retriever puppy.

In the garden

I'm sure it's too late for passion-flowers to be flowering. Especially at the same time as it's fruiting.

My latest crop of raspberries.

xx

The cupboard is bare ... except for garlic

The bit of garden I am trying to turn into a cottage garden is where Husband used to grow courgettes and buried the cat. He was never very found of the cat but now I see that he must have suspected poor Toby of being of sinister character. I thought I had cleared the earth quite convincingly before planting but everywhere I look now I see garlic shooting up. Husband must have thought Toby would come back as a vampire.

But you see I am such a poor gardener that I don't even know about hoeing: does it get rid of the weeds or are you supposed to pick them up by hand as well? Will turning them back into the ground allow them to grow again? But I suppose it is just a constant battle until one of you - probably me - gives up.

No raspberries this year either. Not unless they're very late fruiting.

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Have you noticed that when you do a word verification it always includes at least one of the more obscure letters? And the majority of the letters in the word are on the left side of the keyboard? Does it assume that robotic spammers are right-handed?

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On the radio yesterday was a report about a study that had been carried out. Apparently people with breathing difficulties who don't have to be taken too far to hospital get on better than people with breathing difficulties who do have to be taken a long way to hospital. And researchers get funding for this.

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Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. I was invited out yesterday by a man called Michel le Blanc with a sexy French accent. Shall I tell you any more or keep you on tenter'ooks? (Read with French accent)

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I don't know what I'm having for tea.

I had boiled eggs for lunch. Yes, just boiled eggs, no soldiers. And raw Frosties. I still haven't been to the shop so goodness knows what delightful concoction I'll be eating this evening.

Oh, cranes, I remember.

xx

How does your garden grow?

After the wettest June since records began, the first full weekend in July has been pleasant enough. Warm and sunny in between showers. So pleasant, in fact, that I took it into my head to do some gardening. Now I may have mentioned before that I am to plants what Jack the Ripper was to prostitutes, but never fear, I did the sort of gardening that i am good at: the destructive kind.

Give me a patch of overgrown ground and I am in my element. I clear the way; Husband plants and nurtures. We make a good team. So, inspired by the cottage garden we saw in Stratford, I set to with my three-pronged fork (Husband has had it since before we were married, so it's probably over 30 years old) and my rubber gloves. I am ruthless; I show no mercy.

The first photo shows the patch of garden as it was, overgrown with buttercups, which were very pretty when in flower but the very devil to dig up. Photo two shows the clean soil complete with the first of the plants we've bought in order to try to create the cottage garden look.

I would be slightly more hopeful about the result if it hadn't been for the raspberries.

Last year I cleared what had been the raspberry patch and we planted eight new sticks. No, that's not it. Canes! Three survived until last week when one got broken. Today I've planted six more canes: three of them look as though they might survive...

Harvey made his way out to join me during the afternoon. It was quite a challenge for him, so I promised him that we'd have a drink soon, and then I carried on gardening. After a bit Harvey wanted to know when we were getting this drink.

'Now, in a minute.'

'Do you mean now or in a minute?' he asked pedantically.

I looked at him. 'You're a Welsh dog; you know what I mean.'

He shrugged. 'Well, I assume you mean in a minute - or ten - as you're showing no sign of stopping gardening.'

I went and got him a drink.

He was born on a farm in Wales so he has no excuse. From the pedigree papers it looks as though someone else had him first and then changed their minds and returned him. We think it was because - hang on, I'll just make sure he can't hear what I'm typing - that's all right, he's in the other room, sleeping - he has a pink nose. Black-nosed Golden Retrievers look down their black noses on their pink-nosed cousins. There is snobbery in every walk of life.

In a Welsh suburban garden

I spent the afternoon today gardening and I am a very good gardener. Now this may come as a surprise to those of you who know of my ability to kill a plant with one glance, but I'm a natural at this sort of gardening - the destructive sort. Give me a piece of overgrown land that needs clearing and I'm in my element. Which is quite amazing considering my low tolerance threshold for creepy-crawlies.

I forgot to take a before picture, so this is an after combined with what was. Yes, that enormous pile of weeds filled that little patch of bare earth behind it, completely hiding - and probably trying to kill - the rose, garlic and chives.

We have quite a large garden and Husband, who is away such a lot, struggles to keep up with it. Especially when I have ideas like - why don't we build a pond, re-structure the rockery, plant perennials, do this, do that - all the time. Oh, yes, I'm a good gardener - in theory.

Now this had nothing to do with me. I just wish I could import its perfume for you.