Inna gadda

I ache.

We were doing some gardening yesterday, what with it being a nice day and all. We dug and weeded and pruned and hacked and hewed and trowelled and wheelbarrowed. And the garden still looks shite.

The green wheelie bin is full to overflowing with aquiliegia (sp?) which grow like weeds all over the garden. I dug up Wiltshire's annual quota of dandelions. There were nettles hiding in the middle of the geraniums which I managed to pull out and sting myself with, despite gloves. We hauled away a ton of borage, which is horribly invasive and spiky.

Mr WithaY put some borage flowers in the cool refreshing Pimms we had later on as a reward so they aren't all bad.

Weeding the rose bed is like clipping the dog's claws. You know it's for the best but you still get horribly scratched.

Other news: We had planned to head off to the Bath and West Show on Saturday, but the weather forecast was dire, and according to the local radio the showground had been flooded out on Thursday, so we decided not to bother. Apparently an inch of rain fell in about 2 hours on Thursday afternoon there.

Had some friends over for a very relaxed spag bol and booze supper in the evening, and we all flumped on the sofas to watch the St Trinian's dvd afterwards. Most entertaining. Mr Withay is in love with the Head Girl. She is mighty foxy.

I have written out the cheque to pay my parking fine, but am still too annoyed to actually post it. I need to within 28 days or I get sent to prison for the rest of my life, I think. I'll check the small print on the ticket again.

Oh, you'll be pleased to know that my feet are peeling from the sunburn. Most attractive. I look like a dragon fruit.