Not content with fairly regular Sunday brunches, this morning I met Ros and Mandy for breakfast at Granny Mo's on the canal in Bradford-on-Avon. I suppose I should feel guilty that their
mighty nosh-up followed an energetic bike ride along the canal but life's too short for guilt. And it certainly didn't put me off ordering the full English.
With the sun shining an hour of people watching followed. Toddlers dicing with death at the canal-edge while their over-protective parents had mini seizures - often w
onder how Kate and Pete made it to their teenage years. A canal boat of reasonably well behaved stags with one who seemed to think that being in the great outdoors meant brushing your teeth in full view of one and all and for an unfeasibly long time.
As Ros and Mandy continued their exercise fest, I headed off to the garden centre to indulge my latest obsession. Never thought I would get the gardening bug as to me gardens exist for one purpose only to lie prone in the sun with the only exercise page turning or lifting a gin. But having got someone to gravel the erstwhile weed jungle in the corner, seemed only right to add some colour which I have duly done. In the grand scheme of gardening it is probably akin to microwave ready meals as opposed to a hollandaise sauce from scratch but a girls got to start somewhere and I do feel quite worthy while I am doing it.
I actually started in Aldi where plants had been cheap the previous week. It may now be fashionable for ABC1 shoppers to frequent the stack 'em high, sell 'em cheap store but the Trowbridge branch is an extremely depressing experience. Nevertheless I did a completely pointless shop full of things you might want but would never need; the kind of stuff a stoned Chelsea girl might buy, when suffering a severe case of the munchies - chocolate chip brioche bread, smoked salmon and cheese.
Then it was off the to the more middle class experience of B&Q to stock up on plants which looked purty - again probably not the criteria a real gardener uses. All planted up - so now having done a modicum of exercise I will revert to my more usual garden past-time - soaking up the rays.
I can't believe you are becoming a gardener after all these years of mild amusement toward the green-fingered. Is this what happens? If so, I must be in reverse. Gone are the days of Gardener's World-watching (I actually cried when Geoff Hamilton, one of the presenters died. Was thet his name?). I am so not interested it is unreal. I am interested in brunches though so invite me too next time! I don't know.
ReplyDeleteP.S. Jack says your site is good and mine is gay but that is probably because you have a degree and I don't. Yeh, whatever.