We've got roadside carrots (50p a bag from a stall) to use up plus some boiled new potatoes. P next door is on his own tonight and threw across a packet of filo pastry just past its sell-by date because he said he wouldn't use it up otherwise. I got the message: yes, P, I will cook us all something and pass it right back over the garden fence later on, don't you worry.
The internet, as the musical Avenue Q insists, may be for porn but for us middle-aged types, it's primarily for recipes. I type in dangerous, throbbing words like "carrots", "potatoes" and "filo pastry" and before you know it, "vegetable samosa" pops out, rudely. Wish me luck.
We didn't get as far with the garden as we intended but we made good headway towards our Holzleg -- 3 of the 4 posts are already concreted in, but at the 4th, we were ambushed by 3 cans of Grafenwalder that were somehow flying out of the fridge, and so OH and I surrendered and sat down under the pear tree in the evening sun drinking beer and chatting about this, that and the other, as you would every evening if this was a proper summer.
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