Raining on the garden

I have heard it suggested by the occasional visitor to this blog that it does not portray an entirely accurate picture of the household in Birkenhead. Where are the children who would rather sing and dance than lay the kitchen table for supper? Where are the raised voices and the shouts of dissent? Does it ever rain in the garden?

Well it rained in the garden yesterday afternoon. It started just as I thought I had half an hour to plant some seeds in the vegetable plot. So there was a quick five minutes pulling the washing from the line. I convinced myself that it was only a fine drizzle but by the time I got back outside it had settled down into a fine heavy rain so I had to go back into the house to find a waterproof jacket. As I bent over the soil to fork out a shallow trench in the soil to lay the seeds in the rain collected down the back of my neck and ran down to soak my trousers.

Back inside it was late afternoon and the kids were finishing off homework and wanting to print it off for the next day. There was a loud wail as one of them realised that the printer was out of ink. The was just enough time to squeeze down to PC World to spend £25.00 I was not expecting to spend on two new cartridges.

At home the dishwasher was still not working so before starting on dinner there was another round of washing up to be done. I started to fill the sink and reached for the washing up liquid on the shelf underneath and realised the shelf was covered in water and it was spewing down from where the plug should have been holding it in. I then noticed that a piece of metal round the plug in the small second sink was loose. I was able to unscrew it and found underneath a layer of black gunk that looked like it had been accumulating over the last five years.

It was like a picture from a newspaper expose into the kitchen of a dodgy backstreet takeaway. There was nothing for it but to get my fingers stuck in to clear it out. Rather to my surprise once the gunk was removed and the pieces of metal screwed tightly back in the sink worked and the leak had gone.

We finished off lasts night’s late lunch for supper this evening eating up the chicken with forkfuls of giant couscous. Whilst making a vain attempt to clear some space on a shelf I had come across a Kilner jar of sun dried tomatoes in olive oil. I am fairly sure the tomatoes were bought about seven years ago when we went to Verona for a week. They were black in the oil and tasted old and intense. I chopped a few of them up to mix into the couscous along with half a red onion, garlic, parsley and dill.

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Now watch this to see how to make a frittata.

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