Isn't it good when , up fairly early, you have a leisurely breakfast while doing e-mails, fewer than most days being the weekend.
Then, a nice poodle over to a quality garden centre for a few packets of seeds and some stuff to equip the new greenhouse. It's possible to spend a lot of money at this particular garden centre because next door to the gardeny bits is a food hall. I'd completely forgotten this. I had thought it was just more garden stuff, perhaps the smaller kind of thing, but no. Every kind of posh nosh you could think of. More little jar covers of red and blue gingham than you could throw a pair of pinking shears at. Fortunately in some ways I had gone in wearing my driving glasses which ensured that I couldn't read a damned label for love or money. Money probably being the operative word. But even I couldn't miss the deli. The meats were of a quality you never see in a supermarket, but the cheeses? Oh, Lordy. I settled for a piece of Harlech. I have been to Harlech many times and like the town and its castle. The cheese has a fruity almost wine-like finish and lingers. I am looking forward to a piece more on some crackers for supper.
Also of interest to a fan of Woodforde's excellent ales, an area where large barrels, cut into shelves contain local brews. Woodforde's have their own. I chose a bottle of Wherry (of course!) and a bottle of Norfolk Nog on a two for a fiver deal.
Back home, via a local centre, for lunch. At the local place we saw hanging baskets that were perfect for us. We have two brackets on the front of the house, but until today had nothing hanging from them.
Then back to our old residence to pick up more garden and greenhouse goodies, which I spent the rest of the afternoon installing. Cleared up just in time for dinner. A very good day.
This gardening has got us hooked for sure.
It has its paraphernalia, like fly fishing. Whilst I have always liked gardens I have never had the slightest interest in actually doing fishing of any kind. But as a kid I had a book called Evening Rise, which described one man's attitude to his pursuit. I read it over and over, still without any interest in doing it. I had a wonderful leather book of finely tied flies, which fascinated me. When I bought my barn in Suffolk, there was a pair of Hardy fly rods in split cane in the storage end and a wooden Hardy reel. I sold them to a chap who mounted them all on his downstairs loo wall just to look at and admire when on the throne. Paraphernalia you see? Can't beat it.
And so, the greenhouse is full of propagators, mesh shelving rescued from a soft skinned greenhouse that a Fen wind shook to pieces. A proper hang up thermometer, trowel and fork with nice ash handles, a packet of wild flower mixture, seed packets kept in a nice biscuit tin. I even replaced yesterday's rough bench tops with some wood from the rebuild of our old canal boat. Clean, smooth oak planks.
Now it's up to my wife to do her stuff. She has the wherewithall. Sweet Peas and Garlic bought today needs a-planting.