Brave flower

These nasturtiums live in the front yard and, over the years have migrated from one pot right by the door to being a tolerated weed in any pot with some visible earth. We always have a fine crop for salads, which I love and which is tolerated with some suspicion by the rest of the family (who are, after all, each at least half Scottish and therefore have a healthy suspicion of green foods, with flowers just being a final act of foolishness on a plate).

This year, nothing. Well, a couple of leaves in August, but nothing worth eating. Until now. We're well past my salad window of opportunity for the year (approx March - September, unless abroad when a whole new set of rules apply) but here they are. Two pots full of the stuff. The flowers are a bit scraggy but there are loads of lovely young leaves for nibbling.

Still no heating. Still no word from the plumber. And now the largest of my hot water bottles has taken himself off to London for a few days (he claims it's for 'a meeting' but I'm sure it's no coincidence that he's staying with friends who keep a nice warm house).

So I'm off to spoil myself: our bathroom is the one room in the house that's warm, thanks to the electric underfloor heating, so I'll have a long hot bath with all this spare hot water we have, and maybe a cheeky glass of red, then a daft movie ('27 dresses') just begging to be watched under a duvet on the sofa with a plate of freshly cooked biscuits.