The only possible way for today to get more British would be if a Spitfire landed in our back garden.
Yes. That British!
We’ve been out tidying the garden, preparing for winter and chatting with our neighbours – today’s harvesting of the pumpkin in our front garden was the source of much local comment – if it was front page in the Bexley Shopper next week I wouldn’t be the least surprised. We also cleaned out the gerbil cage on the front porch; the girls went scootering around the streets in a demented high-pitched display team and I mowed the lawn…
And while all this was going on the Lovely Melanie was preparing a sumptuous Sunday lunch of pork with crackling with roast potatoes in cider gravy, followed by a homemade bakewell tart.
See what I mean about the addition of a Spitfire? 😉
The girls weren’t overly keen on the cider gravy – it was something of a break with traditional gravy, I admit. But what a delicious feast we had, and as a result have decided to do a proper family Sunday lunch more often.
The cherry on the cake this afternoon was Amber and I discovering that a bullrush picked by Millie and I last month was, erm…well, going all fluffy would be the layman’s way of describing it.
For a few brief minutes we turned the back garden into some kind of crazy fairy land, drenched in clouds of fluffy bullrush seeds.
Bullrushes, it turns out, are absolutely jam-packed with dandelion-like seeds. By making a small break in their tightly-packaged ranks you can then turn them into a fantastic magic wand that dispenses clouds of tiny seeds that will cover everything nearby, turning your small suburban back garden into a fluffy cotton-covered wonderland. 😀
Amby thought it was brilliant; I thought it was brilliant – it was brilliant!