My brain has caught The Blight. When
Easy Gardener asked if I put sleeves on tomato b
r
anches, I thought, for a whole day, this was a horticultural device I should have known about. I was imagining spores from
Far Side of Fifty's next door potato field floating into Esther's Garden, slipping from the fabric unfulfilled and wafting off to do their damage elsewhere. And I chastised myself for ignorance. If only, I thought, the tomatoes had been wearing sleeves!
Then, I thought, they wouldn't have looked like this. Meanwhile,
Mr McGregor's Daughter and
Rosa Sinensis were politely averting their eyes and taking note of Sandsfoot Castle. Although I'm glad it isn't over-run with tourists, I'm not sure buddleia roots between its stones are good for it either. But there is (I'm sorry
Rosa!) another Henry Vlll Castle (preserved and gift-shoppized) sitting on the opposite side of Portland Harbour. It even has a roo
f. You can pay to go round and look at the kitchens and the armour and take part in its 'events'. Maybe Sandsfoot is a lost cause and the sea will simply take it. Erosion is eating long sections of
the British Coastline. Sea defences tend to shift the problem; not solve it. These steps (which keep company with the fallen rocks and trees and stones below) seem as forlorn to me as Ceres' sleeves. There are sections of fallen brick wall down there too. (Ah! Yes! Ceres and her sleeves. She's very cross with me. She says they aren't 'sleeves' - they are 'arm warmers' - and if I had said 'arm warmers' in the first place, everyone would have known what I was talking about. For my part, I think 'arm warmers' describes 'sleeves' very
well.) I shall scatter photos of the 'not-so-good' tomatoes and their leaves decoratively around the page. (
Mr McGregor's Daughter, you really may prefer to shut your eyes.)
ranches, I thought, for a whole day, this was a horticultural device I should have known about. I was imagining spores from Far Side of Fifty's next door potato field floating into Esther's Garden, slipping from the fabric unfulfilled and wafting off to do their damage elsewhere. And I chastised myself for ignorance. If only, I thought, the tomatoes had been wearing sleeves! 
Then, I thought, they wouldn't have looked like this. Meanwhile, Mr McGregor's Daughter and Rosa Sinensis were politely averting their eyes and taking note of Sandsfoot Castle. Although I'm glad it isn't over-run with tourists, I'm not sure buddleia roots between its stones are good for it either. But there is (I'm sorry Rosa!) another Henry Vlll Castle (preserved and gift-shoppized) sitting on the opposite side of Portland Harbour. It even has a roo
f. You can pay to go round and look at the kitchens and the armour and take part in its 'events'. Maybe Sandsfoot is a lost cause and the sea will simply take it. Erosion is eating long sections of the British Coastline. Sea defences tend to shift the problem; not solve it. These steps (which keep company with the fallen rocks and trees and stones below) seem as forlorn to me as Ceres' sleeves. There are sections of fallen brick wall down there too. (Ah! Yes! Ceres and her sleeves. She's very cross with me. She says they aren't 'sleeves' - they are 'arm warmers' - and if I had said 'arm warmers' in the first place, everyone would have known what I was talking about. For my part, I think 'arm warmers' describes 'sleeves' very 
well.) I shall scatter photos of the 'not-so-good' tomatoes and their leaves decoratively around the page. (Mr McGregor's Daughter, you really may prefer to shut your eyes.) 
