Autumn already

 

A consolation of approaching autumn is the emergence of some old favourites, like this cyclamen, which colleague Jane invited me to plunder from her garden before she moved - gosh! - ten years ago.  So that’s as long as we’ve had the motor mower, which she didn’t need in her new garden.  It’s therefore entitled to be on its last legs: like its owner, the engine is in good shape, but the bodywork is rotting away.  It’s still working, however, and saves a whole lot of effort compared with the old electric job.  But I’m researching rechargeable battery machines

Tomorrow being shopping day, I was rather scratching around this evening for supper ingredients. So it was a mug of pasta into lots of boiling water, a packet of smoked lardons sweated over a medium-low flame, followed by half an onion finely chopped and a clove of garlic, the remaining half of a red pepper, the last mushroom and a handful of our tomatoes, halved and de-seeded.  Salt, pepper and basil, plus a good dollop of crème fraîche, and freshly grated Parmesan.  Bob: uncle; Fanny: aunt.

I can’t begin to describe my feelings about our political masters either side of the pond.  All I’d say is that HMG is thrashing around like a rudderless dinghy in a gale, and N°45 is advocating voting felony to his supporters, while doing all he can to undermine the voting system itself.  The times are depressing enough as it is without the increasing threats to democracy.

Closer to home, the third visit from the wasp man seems to have done the trick.  I sent him up into the garage loft this time, and he admitted that the latest nasty materials are less effective than the old stuff, to which he has reverted.