For Tom.

It would ruin Tom's year if I didn't moan about my overwhelming Quince crop. So if anyone would like some Quinces, please send a stamped addressed truck to me, here and I will send you a tonne or two by return. 

As usual the tree is groaning with fruit. I will make an effort to eat one or two this year, but I shall still end up putting most of them on the compost (to join all our grapes).

My preferred way of eating Quince is to peel (difficult), quarter (very difficult), and core (even more difficult), then roast the prepared quarters with either a chicken or a joint of pork. Try it; delicious.

I used to make classic Quince jelly, or occasionally Membrillo, but no-one eats it.

Shame isn't it. Why can't my other fruit trees be so consistently generous. Sod's Law, I suppose. 

On my way to the airport yesterday I saw a dozen or more trees that were similarly overwhelmed; everyone seems to have the same problem.

How to make walnut oil

Walnuts will start dropping quite soon, so I thought you might enjoy this; a little peek into life down here in S W France. You never know what's in a Frenchman's garden shed.



Then I drink two teaspoons of it every day with my breakfast.

National Boris.

                                     

Some people are so notorious that they are simply known by their given name; above is one such.

I do like dear old Boris, and bizarrely he is equally liked by both sides of the political spectrum.  He's a breath of fresh eccentric air in the otherwise dull and corrupt world of politics. He tells the truth (mostly), and does what he says. Some might also say he's slightly 'Churchillian'. Even though he swings to the right of the political roundabout, he could almost be from any leaning.

He had a pretty classic upbringing for a politician. Ashdown House, Eton, Balliol, President of the Oxford Union, as well as being a naughty Bullingdon* member. Somehow he also managed to leave Oxford with a 2:1 degree in Classics. Educationally, it doesn't get much better.

When we think of Boris, we think of London bicycles, blond unruly hair, occasional womaniser, and highly intelligent buffoon. He is the current Mayor of London.

Boris could well be a future UK Prime Minister, or at least a minister, so look out world, you ain't seen nuffin yet. When (or if) this man starts walking the international political catwalk, he'll be a serious power to reckon with.

*The Bullingdon Club is an exclusive drinking club for extremely wealthy, and well connected, Oxford undergraduates. They dress extravagantly, eat and drink copiously, then create mayhem (leaving daddy's lawyers to cough-up for the damage). It's a fine British institution, and the perfect training ground for UK Prime Ministers (our present PM, Dave, was also a member).

p.s. With both Boris and Nigel (Farage) amongst a new wave of hopeful MP's; politics is suddenly looking more interesting (if not more appealing).

The barn; a progress report.

I receive thousands of Emails each day asking how the work at the barn is progressing (like hell I do).

Well, work has started again and we are busy putting up the new beams and joists for the ceiling/upstairs floor.

As wood and aluminium are to be very much a part of the whole final design, I have decided to use these industrial type fixings which will be left showing. The downstairs will be very hi-tech, and the upstairs more rustic and 'cosy'. 

As with all amateur builders/architects, I am problem-solving as I go along. Problems are plentiful; solutions less so. But we'll get there! 

Black for Danger?

I am growing two varieties of chili this year. One is a 5 inch long, medium hot, carrot-shape-ish, chili which I am already using (very nice). The other is the above; a small, black, dangerous-looking, evil baby.

I don't remember actually buying this variety, in fact I'm sure it was supposed to have been a small, roundish, hot, RED chili.

The soil is very dry here, and these black chilies are now drooping. A week or so ago they were all pointing skywards.

Does anyone grow these? Are they as dangerous as they appear? Do they stay black? I haven't dared use one yet, I suppose I could try the 'taste test'.

All answers greatly appreciated.

Early One (Sunday) Morning.

It's 7.20am (6.20am UK time) and it's cool. I'm still wearing shorts and T shirt, but almost wish I wasn't.

The Hazel nuts are looking good. Some have already started dropping; they're plump, sweet, and milky.

The Chestnuts are swelling. It's probably time to get mowing beneath the trees.

And this year's Sloes are the size of small Plums.

The boys are happy whatever the weather, and whatever time of day. I always give Monty a few Blackberries at this spot; that's what he's waiting for.

No need to buy or grow Mint here; it's everywhere. Actually I do grow some, but a different variety.

And finally, I pass this wild grapevine every morning, and I can hardly wait to see what becomes of it when ripe. Red, white, sweet, or sour? I just hope the deer don't get to them before I do. If they're any good I'll take some cuttings.

Fashion Victims.

                              

I presume that all girls attending UK music festivals, in recent times, have been given a list of clothes to wear; either by their peers or by the festival organisers.

The essentials are Hunter gumboots, very short shorts, long strapped handbag, rucksack filled with more short shorts, and a silly hat.

English summer music festivals are not known for dry sunny weather, in fact they are mostly known for mud, mud, and more mud. But still they wear the festival-goers uniform.

As a 'style' I rather like it.