Bird

The kids are off on half term and so I’ve not had any time to write and when I have I’ve been too tired. However I have planted out my veg in my gorgeous raised beds (made by my father-in-law, thank you George) and am feeling so Control Freak Contented. My next door neighbour says it’s gardening for fascists, and I must admit that I am deeply aroused by the corralled corn and perfectly placed parsley. I love the way the hard edges of the boards slice the side of the grass and the rich earth, made lustrous by manure and compost, nestles against the side of the wood. Fuck me I’m John Innes Keats.