I always try to buy ‘Made in Britain’ stuff if I can. I am as much a champion of home-grown goods as I can possibly be in this crazy world where buying tat from abroad often works out cheaper than buying from one’s own country. Like importing New Zealand lamb when we grow enough of our own lambs. Never did understand that one. Anyway, where I am going with this started a month or so ago when Shropshire Council, in all its wisdom, decided to start charging for the emptying of our green waste bin. The green waste bin is emptied once a fortnight and I usually fill it well with stuff from the garden plus all our food waste which is minimal anyway because I am very good about NOT wasting food. We have the four compost bays in the garden, of course, plus the dalek bin which manage a lot of our garden waste but it’s good to get rid of stuff in the green waste bin which might take a bit longer to break down. Like the prunings from Wild Edric, for example. And pernicious weeds. This service ha
In the last eight days, Nell the Poo has received three baths. This is three baths too many for my liking. The first bath was because she evaded me on a long walk and succeeded in rolling in a massive pile of fox poo. All over her chest it was, and up either side of her neck. She looked positively triumphant as she emerged from the hedge, and thought I’d like to share in her joy by trying to jump up me. Bleaurgh…no way, José. We returned to the car with me stretching the lead as far as it would go and drove home with all the car windows open. I donned some sturdy rubber gloves before bathing her and gave the bath a good bleach scrub down afterwards. Absolutely revolting.🤢 🤮 On Thursday, she got bowled into the canal by an over-enthusiastic springer spaniel. The spaniel’s owner said, ‘Do you want me to get her out for you?’ but it was too late - I was already on my hands and knees in the mud and wet grass, dangling over the side of the canal to haul a struggling Nell up the steep sid