I look like one of those dudes with a prize fish!
Parsley, Weasel and I took a visit down to the allotment to plant it. It was another fine, crisp day. Conditions were perfect for tearing up the ground like a mole possessed, in order to plant a beautiful little apple tree. We now have the crabapple tree, the bright golden apple tree (someone please tell me what variety it is) and the COP. Took a while to find the right spot as a hump we had deemed suitable was in fact landfill. Fuming!
Dug a sizeable hole which was part filled with dung, then mixed with soil. On top of that went the shit water (according to Cakealot this is baby bio!). Wonderful stuff this, looks like Guinness, or port, smells like shit: hence shit water. You have to dispense with airs and graces when it comes to the allotment. Then threw some topsoil on. It should bear fruit this year so I'm told, which is mondo exciting.
Crud water = gold
Parsley, ever the task master, persuaded me to dig another hole for the second christmas tree. It was getting colder and I shredded my middle finger on an errant twig. Blame Sir Cakeatonne's fork. All that jousting has imbued it with magical powers and extra volition. So we went home. And yet again, I was dizzy with the fun we'd had. It's only January!
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A very naughty Smethwick was playing up yesterday, looking like he was going to attack the chickens, looking like he was going to attack me, attacking poor Winks, and his own tail. For shame Frank. Get yourself in order lad!