Tuesday, 30 August 2011

Tay Toes And Wiggy Warms

Or to translate Toddlerspeak: potatoes and wiggly worms.

You see before you the results of tonight's harvest in the sunshine from our plot on the Electric Allotments by the babbling River Nairn.

We now have a haul of about 50 tatties in a cool, dark and dry place, ie the cupboard at the back door.

During the digging Toddler made herself right at home in her secondhand Wendy House we have on the plot. She kept bringing me cups of tea (plastic plant pots filled with dirt and cobwebs) and tried counting the potatoes but kept losing count at five.

The smell of earthy spuds takes me right back to my Papa's garden 30 years ago. The whiff of mud and veg - sweet memories are made of this, as Dean Martin almost sang.

Anyway, who's for mash?

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