Gone to seed

A few more things might go that way, as Mrs P is coming with us back to Soller on Monday, and the garden will be getting on with it without her. This is the view back at you, as you stare out of the kitchen window into the showers or sunshine slanting through the clouds and apple trees.

We tried out some tennis racquets in the park today, but our balls weren't bouncy enough, two strings pinged on one of the racquets and patience was lost just as the rain came again. I didn't take a shot of a car perched horrifically on its side further up Duke Street, with the fire brigade can-opening the top, for fear of what had happened. Goodness knows how in that narrow road. Let's hope all were as lucky as Mrs P a while ago.

Bags are more or less packed, a fabulous rib of beef more devoured than eaten, plums and apples from our trip down South also devoured in a crumble and I'm dropping, rapidly going to seed. Do I really have to go back to work?