A Second Hand Daughter

A few things from the last few days.

Sunday morning and with the benefit of Father’s Day I took myself away for a couple of hours round The Secret Gardens of Oxton. This is the day when various private gardens in the village are opened up for the day to reveal themselves in all their primped glory.

I have been to most of them before so would it be churlish to suggest that the highlights were the Morris Dancers and the pulled pork bap (until it spilled itself down my shirt and trousers as I tried to stuff it in my mouth on the way home – it was still mighty fine).

In the gardens I found myself looking out the veg patches and comparing the state of the courgettes with those I am growing at home. Some were a bit more advanced than mine with a few even showing the odd yellow flower. I resisted the temptation to pick for a nibble – too many people about. But there were other gardens in which the courgettes were just as laggard as mine.

After that it was a drive to Chester and a BBQ in the late afternoon sun with Mum & Dad. I had bought up some of the last of the year’s asparagus and we had them cooked in boiled water and slathered in butter, salt and pepper. We ate them with our fingers licking at the juices as we went following up with grilled steaks and a Turkish mixed chopped veg chopped salad reeking of garlic.

Since then we have been waiting on reports from Kristen as she hunkers down in Ahakista. She has been doing battle with recalcitrant ovens and avoiding porpoises whilst out looking for mackerel in the bay on a kayak.

Eighteen months ago I wrote about the second hand storm that hit Ahakista picking up pieces from reports around Facebook and YouTube. Now I am hungry for the reports from the daughter who is there. The talk of fires on the beach, still water and walks to the pub.

Our tickets for the summer have been booked and we will be there in just over four weeks time. Cheese and fish will be eaten and black pints of Murphy’s will be drunk with care and attention.

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