Sunday, 11 September 2011

Anyone for a Game of Cluedo?

With Trousers having abandoned me once again in search of a treasure more valuable than Moi (No, I do understand that it's possible when Metal Detecting Boys'n'Girls?), I stood in here on my lonesome this afternoon, with all the doors and windows shut against the blustery blight-ridden breezes, harvesting the last of the tomatoes off their vines, and, out of the corner of Wellie's eye, she spied a little harvest-mouse!  So I shut the interior doors leading from The Conservatory to the rest of The Funny Farm rooms, opened the back door, and, quick as a flash, grabbed my trusty camera.

Just as Trousers would be looking longingly through the window of a closed Cheese Shop Children, Squeak was looking through the window of Freedom, without a 'MouseFlap', eventually sussing out how to overcome the problem, by walking the long way round, and over the threshold, back into The Kitchen Garden for my Gardening Cat to catch on a different day than today.

Said Gardening Cat was fast asleep in her greenhouse, where all my Banana Shallots, Red and White Onions are drying, and very nearly ready to plait into a string or two (the alliums - not my cat - pay attention peeps?!)

Grateful for any harvest that I can turn into something fabulous, this is only a small proportion of the green tomatoes now being ripened in the safety of Indoors.  I've also got Conference Pears, Peppers and Chillies under strict supervision.

 It's no wonder that my brain aches sometimes, constantly being bombarded with brilliant ideas of how to solve a particular problem... and thankfully, in the picture below, I had this little gem of a brainwave for storing our magnificent Potato harvests:
The front door, naturally enough...leads into The Hall, which is: The Dining Room, grandly earning itself the posh title of The Dining Hall, one of the coolest rooms in the house, and a through-breeze is obtainable on a regular basis at the touch of a doorhandle to keep the tubers aired, but in the dark.
Clever Wellie, and no mistake...

 It just means that we can't invite friends round for dinner unless we dine them in The Kitchen, or we move the spuds to The Spare Room, which isn't remotely as convenient for me, but gets us out of having Guests stay over, because the spuds would have to join the ranks of the christmas decorations, which have been at the end of the beds since The New Year!

Yesterday, having harvested another 2 lb. of Autumn Bliss Raspberries, not having quite got over the 4 lb. harvest of the previous day.... I got both of my preserving pans out of the cupboard and had a marathon jam and chutney-making session - still leaving me more of my friend Medina's lovely Damsons yet to play with in the next few days from the fridge!

As sure as God made little green apples, I lost my label-writing pen last week, so Trousers treated me to a new one.  Having wrongly accused Himself and The Cat, I found it today, and have to admit that it was indeed:
In The Conservatory
With The Calligraphy Pen
Bless You For Watching, And Thank You For Listening Again.

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