Our garden, more like a wildnerness right now…….
We’ve got a plum tree in the garden and a fence and a garden wall that are not really all that secure (Tinta has proved that fact at least five times a day whilst breaking for the border with her short lover).
The plums are ripe, unfortunately none of us are all that keen on eating them, so I came over all motherly the other day and actually attempted to make chutney. O in the meantime came over all fatherly and attempted to make the garden boundaries stronger. Neither of us were all that successful.
It was one of those beautiful, tranquil Sundays that we both long for – conveniently forgetting about the huge pile of paperwork and other stuff that needed to be done, we pottered agreeably with our chosen projects. The first hour went well. I collected plums and O tackled the wall, having decided that it was to blame for the dodgy fence. Our projects began to fall apart when he couldn’t find the right tools and I couldn’t be bothered to find a recipe for chutney. But nevertheless we laboured on happily, G playing inside and bimbling around.
It got hotter, and hotter, and our tempers began to fray: O made cement to stick the blocks together whilst I improvised with spices, sugar, a huge amount of plums and no pectin. I’d tethered Tinta up inside the house so that we could move freely from the garden into the house and back again without worrying about her escaping for yet another tryst with Romeo (who has now been camping outside of our doorstep for over a week). She took the situation well, having a nap on her bed and not making much of a fuss. I was feeling quite pleased with her until I went to check her and realised that she had disappeared – Houdini in dog form continues. O hadn’t noticed her doing a runner either and we had to hunt her down. She was skipping up and down the main road of our village with her tail straight up in the air, an air of triumph about her. Once we’d caught her she was banished upstairs, behind the baby gate at the top where she whimpered and moaned. Chutney making and wall repairing continued with an air of determination – we WOULD achieve what we’d set out to do.
It was with uncanny synchronisation that we both realised the same thing – the stuff we were making just wasn’t quite sticky enough. O gazed glumly at his ineffective wall, whilst I did the same with my very runny chutney.
Perhaps we weren’t cut out for this DIY lark after all. So after a bit of a grumpy moment we opened a bottle of wine, settled on the sofa with G, and watched the tennis instead. Rafa Nadal won, so it was a perfect Sunday after all.
The chutney tastes pretty good, although you need to eat it with a spoon, and the wall is holding up, a fine example of bodge it building: O keeps threatening to go out one evening and actually make it look better, but in the meantime we have finally found a way of keeping Tinta in the garden – we’ve unearthed a metal gate which fits more or less into the corner of the L shape of the backyard – she is safe, we are more relaxed, Romeo is thwarted. But there will have to be a trip to the vet after she’s finished her season for a pregnancy test, and we’ll go from there…. I don’t think I can handle anymore parenting than I am already doing, especially if it involves puppies or chutney.