Modest gardening

I pursued the mower across the back grass the other day, as much to pick up and shred willow and oak leaves as anything else.  It’s the time of year when we get a lot of fungi popping up through the grass up at the top.  They look like pleurotes, but I’m not about to put that identification to the test!  

A lot of the annuals are now down, and the raised bed is now empty of runner beans.  Those on the fence at the other side are still in place, where there are a few big pods that I’ll leave to see if we can get seed from them for next year.  We’ve learned from this year that wigwams on slender poles are a Bad Thing, so will get stouter supports next year and lash them to the fence.  We shall not bother trying to grow carrots again: we got precisely three runty examples this year, and since the commercial growers do a good enough job, and they’re dirt-cheap, we won’t bother.  Might do leeks again, though, but not in quite such numbers!

We’ve had a few sharp frosts lately, so it was time to get some of the cuttings potted up and brought indoors.  I’ve had more success with the fuchsia magellanica alba this time - I lost last year’s batch, largely through neglect, I’m afraid.  The penstemon cuttings were a mixed result: some rooted enthusiastically, others not at all.  I only got two purple ones to root, but have put the rest back in the cold frame, since the foliage looked healthy.  The reds and rose pink did better, but the star performer is the nth generation of a pale pink subject from cuttings I scrounged from a neighbour at Smith Towers before we moved here.  One neighbour wants fuchsias, another wants penstemons.  I’ll try to bring them on (the cuttings, not the neighbours) in the sitooterie through the winter.

The gas man cameth once again today.  The boiler has taken to cutting out, or not starting first thing in the morning, forcing us to reset and relight.  With the weather as it is, a duff boiler is not to be encouraged.  Today’s rather piratical-looking West Countryman suspected the condensation drain was blocked, blew down it and left, asking me to video the behaviour of the warning light should the problem recur.  

The shower door is repaired, thanks to Martyn’s patience and perseverance, but the shower room vent fan is sounding stressed - no doubt because it’s fighting to get the air past disused wasp nests.  And the shower pump is getting temperamental.  The bathroom is now looking really shabby: the DIY job done by a previous administration has not stood the test of time.  We’ll review shower pumping arrangements when we get that job done.  Not cheap, this home ownership business.  But I did a modicum of DIY today, partially dismantling and cleaning the cloakroom vent fan.  Hardly a triumph, since it involved one Philipps screw, a bowl of soapy water and a damp sponge.

As for the political world, I’ll limit myself, in the interests of my blood pressure, to reporting the view that it’s time for a visit from the men in the grey suits.  If the breed still exists.  I’ve read views - not that I could personally express one  - that something needs to be done about the indecisive, incompetent, unprincipled, self-promoting, morally bankrupt occupant of the office of First Lord of the Treasury.  But such a commentator might also repeat the immortal words of Hilaire Belloc: always keep a-hold of Nurse/For fear of finding something worse!