The crayfish found knitting a little challenging.

Great weekend – from almost every aspect. Sun shone and we got a lot of gardening done. (I don’t want anybody who may stumble upon these ramblings to think that all I ever do is garden and have no other life – I want them to think that I go to glamorous parties, take endless exotic city breaks, lie around on tapestried cushions smoking fine hashish from an antique hookah, write highly erotic poetry, visiting my tailor, playing exceptionally skilful tennis and stylish cricket, composing experimental works for spinnet and bass guitar, creating exquisite landscapes in watercolour etc,etc. Therefore I may be forced to lie and mislead occasionally in order to foster this illusion.)

We must have pulled a thousand thistles between us as well as clipping the beech columns on the lawn – which are beginning to look full and columnar.

There used to be a copper beech column at one point but a dog ate it and I never got round to getting a replacement. We also planted tomatoes, peppers, aubergines and melons – at least Celestria did, in the vegetable garden I am mostly labour. I find the whole process of kitchen gardening satisfying and I certainly enjoy the results but it is not an area of gardening in which I feel totally confident. Therefore a division of labour has developed – I do flowers, Celestria does veg. Seems to work.

The poppies were looking wonderful – although it was a bit grey yesterday and they look even better in the sunshine.

There is a particularly delicious raspberry coloured one that seems to have evolved. One of the best things about opium poppies (apart, of course, from their invaluable contribution to pain relief and warfare in Afghanistan) is the way they cross with each other and move around the garden – nothing can be guaranteed.

I am listening to Infected Mushroom and the picture is of the seedhead of an oriental poppy – I this the fuzzy bit looks a little like one of those fruit jelly sweets (M & S do a good version) with sugar on them. In my childhood I seem to remember something called Meltis Fruits that people who came to stay gave my mother – anyway, something like that. Or maybe a blackcurrant tarantula. Or maybe not.