What Happens when You Don't Eat Your Broccoli

Cleaned up the vegetable garden this morning - out with the broccoli, which is done, out with the old arugula (plenty new coming along), harvested the cauliflower. There were supposed to be two cauliflowers, but one must have been hit by a cosmic ray because it turned into broccoli somewhere along the way. I'm impressed with my cauliflower - it didn't have the best of spots in the garden, having been engulfed by the tomatoes - but it produced an impressive looking head all the same. We ate half of it tonight, roasted with olive oil and garlic and tossed in parmesan cheese. Delicious.

Oh yes and finally (finally!) I found 4 ripe cherry tomatoes, which were happily consumed with lunch. Too much to hope for a tomato filled week before the big adventure?

Our DNA results came in from ancestrydotcom today. Mr Lightwave, confirmed his largely Scandinavian heritage, but surprisingly, 21% British also showed up. I, on the other hand, without a single known ancestor from outside of the British Isles, came in at only 35% British. My question is this: How do I stop Mr. L doing his fake English accent?

P.S. I know that my apparent lack of 'Britishness' results from the huge margin of error on the data from my sample, presumably a result of the inconvenient heterogeneity of the British population and the small number of individuals used to construct the database. And if I want to twist todays photo into a story about genetics, I could say isn't it interesting how, once it flowers, the identity of broccoli as a member of the Brassica family becomes immediately apparent?