Early next week, an early Christmas treat, I bought for myself, arrives here at the Welsh Hovel. My gift is two, four foot long, wooden boxes which I plan to fill with sand in which to store surplus carrots, of which I have many, for winter usage. When the shops run out and you are all starving, bring me your gold and I can supply not only beans but carrots. I should, however, say that my carrots get uglier by the day.
Yesterday’s prize specimen, which tasted great in a honey glaze, is below and is truly hideous. Above it are three types of edible apples from the new orchard, of which the Mrs agrees two types are ripe and some pears from the same place which are also ripe. Pears store less well than apples so will be the puddings this week. And to the left a birthday present for Joshua: a puzzle of a picture of him and me at his first ever West Ham game in London.
