Possibilities

There are three competing destinies for this what-I-originally-thought-was-a-courgette. The most likely is that it rots, like most of the others (there are only two left). The second most likely is that just before Halloween I give it to next door's adorable children, the stand-ins for the grandchildren I will never have. (I seriously wonder whether my grim certainty that human idiocy has doomed the planet to destruction is my way of rationalising not having grandchildren. I am envious of grandparents and try hard to make sure that the two adorables next door don't suffer for my yearning.)

But what I really want - please cross your fingers for me - is that it turns into a carriage campervan for me. That would be a second-best dream come true.

I spent a lot of today moving soil to try to level my garden. While I was taking a break, my French mate of 45 years phoned. I realised afterwards that what I'd said in French was that I had spent today making the earth move. Must double-check my international idioms.