Tales from my handbag

I don’t want to sound like I’ve got an environmental-related OCD but I need to talk about the weather again. Yesterday, I was practically house-bound due to the Monsoon. Thankfully, I had all the comestibles I needed in my cupboard so didn’t need to go out but when it came to jazzing up my roast potatoes I was forced into the deluge in order to pick a sprig of rosemary. Then, later on, as I coursed down the road in my canoe, I got to thinking, as Carrie Bradshaw says in Sex and the City, when is this fucking weather going to stop and when can I get my flip flops out? My winter broad beans have died in the ground, my hardy Agaves, the Ranulph Fiennes of succulents, are drooping and I don’t even want to talk about my onions.. 

As a woman, I am adept at multi-tasking. What I mean to say is that I can juggle but often I drop the ball, if you get my drift. Today, for example, I had the onerous task of dealing with a hairy carpet (am I the only person who moults like a dog?), rescuing my plants from obese snails, and repotting my prize agave plant – all at the same time. As usual, I was in a hurry so didn’t satisfactorily complete any of these tasks. I gave up with the hairs. Rather like the Forth Bridge, as soon as I’ve picked up one load, my head sheds another. You could stuff mattresses with my hair. I threw a few snails over the wall – oh what joy – but got bored – and tramped one’s intestines all over the hairy carpet, to boot! As for the agave, it’s in its new home but my arms have paid the price. I look like a mature self-harmer. Yes, I shouldn’t have done the job in a boob tube – but it was warm! Anyway, I digress. I wanted to talk about my broccoli. Having carefully nurtured it from seed on my window sill, the 6″ high plants are now in the ground, on the allotment. Already two of the poor blighters have been eaten. By what? Rabbits, birds, snails or mice? Can anyone tell me? I am at a loss. Thank you.