I’ve taken to making courgette and cucumber pickles
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Could you play hide and seek in there?
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You can cook the courgette flowers, that will slow down the cunts.
I’ve seen that done but haven’t tried it, do you dip them in a batter and quickly deep fry them?
yes, you can stuff them and deep fry them. Ricotta cheese and herbs is lovely. A bit of a pain in the arse though, you could throw them into a salad or pan fry them also.
The berries are fucked from the lack of rain. Gooseberries and black currants all shriveled up. Seems to be a decent crop of plums.
Had my first tomatoe from the tunnel yesterday, a small cherry one, unreal.
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Long term it’ll do the yield a power of good - the bushes will fruit like fuck for a few years to ensure their legacy.
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The state of that wall. They spared the mortar.
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You’ve lovely plums
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Whitewash the wall
Paint it green and white.
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I will in my fuck. It’ll be covered by an assortment of raspberries, loganberries etc in a couple of years.
The antibacterial properties of whitewash will be good for them
I think the wall has distorted your camera lens
I’m having an on going battle with a wren. The little bollix keeps getting into the tunnel and eating my tomatoes. I still haven’t managed to get one of the best steak tomatoes ripe without him taking chunks out of it.
Give them wren boys in Dingle a shout, after the Super 8s their diary is free now til Stephenzuz Day…
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The wren, the wren, the king of all birds,
St. Stephen’s Day was caught in the furze,
Although he was little his honour was great,
Jump up me lads and give him a treat.
Up with the kettle and down with the pan,
And give us a penny to bury the wren.
As I was going to Killenaule,
I met a wren upon the wall.
I took me stick and knocked him down,
And brought him in to Carrick Town.
Up with the kettle and down with the pan,
And give us a penny to bury the wren.
Droolin, Droolin, where’s your nest?
Tis in the bush that I love best
In the tree the holly tree,
Where all the boys do follow me.
Up with the kettle and down with the pan,
And give us a penny to bury the wren.
We followed the wren three miles or more,
Three mile or more three miles or more.
We followed the wren three miles or more,
At six o’clock in the morning.
Up with the kettle and down with the pan,
And give us a penny to bury the wren.
I have a little box under me arm,
Under me arm under me arm.
I have a little box under me arm,
A penny or tuppence would it no harm.
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The Town, it climbs the mountain
And looks out o’r the sea
At sleeping or at waking time
Its there I’d like to be
To walk again those kindly streets
The place where life began
With the Boys of Barr na Sraide
Who hunted for the wren