My father can take a joke on most matters but is a little sensitive on the subject of the tomatoes he grows in Shipston on Stour. They have a tendency to be small and green. Perhaps if he and my deluded lefty step mother are right then global warming will rectify that. I am not holding my breath.
I am staying with the brother in law of my partner in the Peloponnese where he has a house in the village in which he grew up. His parents live from the land here. And so today we visited their garden and, Dad admit it, their tomatoes are just in a different league to your own.
Putting them in scale, what you see behind is the hand of my partner.
There are also melons (we had one for lunch) and peppers and so much more.
I am told that getting pictures of melons helps attract traffic from google. I am not sure why.
Tomorrow morning I get up before seven to go meet the goats. There were five goats but two of them were “taken out of production” yesterday. And jolly pleasant they tasted. But the three that remain are, apparently good milk producers, and so tomorrow I am going to try to milk one of them. I shall try to capture this moment of career development on video and will report back then.