randomrabbit's Diaryland Diary

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Down with the bedclothes up with your nightshirt. Fiddle about. Fiddle about

Do all cats have a sensitive spot sort of down the inside of their back legs? I�ve never noticed it on others before but Eddie seems to go in to kitty ecstasy if you stroke him there. It�s not quite groinal but it�s heading that way, so I just want to be sure I�m not inadvertently tossing off my cat.

I have about 10 courgettes left to eat and that�ll be it finally, the last of the little green fuckers. Next year I�m going to have to plan what I grow a lot better or grow less as it�s been bloody hard work at times and I�ve ended up with gluts of stuff I don�t really want to eat - 20 turnips and an arse load of French beans probably being the worse. I made loads of turnip and parsnip soup, tasted it and threw it down the sink, so that helped. Boiled parsnips taste like shite.

The courgettes have gone in to souffl�s, moussakaesque things and cake mostly. Courgette moussaka isn�t bad but does reach temperatures usually only found at the centre of stars, so if you don�t want your teeth to melt you need to let it cool for about a fortnight before eating. Courgette cake is surprisingly nice once you get past the green bits in it. It�s even nicer with custard. Trust me - go make one. Or I�ll post you one of the 97 I have in my freezer.

I inflated quite substantially last week, which my mum in her nursely wisdom reckons was down to a vegetable overdose from trying to eat all of the previously mentioned glut before it went off. I�m no doctor, not outside sexual role-play chat rooms at any rate, but I�m fairly sure OD�ing on vegetables isn�t an actual medical condition. Whatever it was though, I couldn�t fasten my trousers for 2 days and then spent the next 2 silently deflating in an enormously stinky farting spree.

My next door neighbours, who I still haven�t actually forgiven for their dog eating my greenhouse by the way, have got a little girl who likes to come and follow me round while I�m in the garden and feed the chickens and stuff. She�s sweet and that but it does make me terribly paranoid about being accused of something. Especially when I�ve got my marigolds on cleaning out chicken shit and looking not a million miles away from Uncle Ernie in Tommy you can see how mistakes could happen. And people are so quick to point the finger these days � you can�t even go down the playground and stick your winky through the railings any more without someone calling you a paedo.

My nephew�s started uni. This is making me feel tremendously old and consequently terribly depressed.

4:45 p.m. - 2010-09-29

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