Even on the wastelands there is beauty to be found. The bindweed weaves its way up through a chain link fence, its tightly clasped flowers ready to unfurl into great white trumpets. Up above, a nodding bramble bears blackberries of green, red and black.
Down on Mr Grigg’s plot, there is fruit to be had. Blackcurrants in abundance, their smell on being picked taking me back to the 1970s when I earned 35p a bucket during the summer holidays. Crushed purple blackness on dextrous fingers.
The gooseberry bush with fruits we have missed – skeletal branches with fat and spiky globes hanging like pendants – and the odd raspberry, just one each, as a mouthwatering precursor to the harvest ahead.
August, the month of the long school holidays, daily plant watering, haymaking and my birthday. Perfect.
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
They're playing Drink Up Thy Zider at Bristol City's ground, Ashton Gate. It's their song. So we drink up our cider and h...
The incense hits my nostrils as soon as I enter the church. We're at the back, listening to the chanting. The candle-style light bulbs...
We've got a table reserved for four and we're in poll position. Once we've feasted we'll be out of the starting blocks and...
It's been hotter than a hot thing in August since we arrived in Corfu. I don't like moaning but it's been too hot. Some of th...
We've just picked up a vehicle for my big brother from Kostas and Antonis at the appropriately-named Sunrise Car Hire. They'r...