Abigail's barely been and gone before Barney's on the way, with Met Office yellow wind warnings for tomorrow afternoon. But this morning it was neither raining nor particularly windy, and I returned to cutting down and digging up Rubus cockburnianus in the meadow. I'd got a trailer load by the end of Andrew Neill's guest spot on Radio 3's Essential Classics, and the Systems Administrator kindly agreed to stop soldering tiny couplings onto model railway wagons for long enough to come and help me drag it to the bonfire heap.
I told the SA that I was getting towards the end of the bramble stems, and the frequency with which I needed a hand with a trailer ought to start dropping soon. Famous last words, I'd filled it again by lunchtime, having underestimated the sheer quantity of stems that were growing round the pond. Tucked in among them was a shrub with slender green leaves which I took to be an evergreen, though it might just be very late turning colour. I didn't recognise it as any wild plant that I knew, and tentatively identified it as privet of some sort. I'll have to check my records of what I planted by that pond, and see what else comes to light as I clear round the edges.
I am worried that the water level seems low given the amount of rain we've had, and that something (probably the bramble) might have punctured the lining. But maybe the water level fell over the summer and there hasn't been enough rain to top it right up. Again, I'll have to see how it looks once I've cleared the undergrowth and can get at it properly. If the water level doesn't drop further then I'll know the liner is intact below the current level, and only have to check the parts I can see. If I refill it and the level drops quickly then stabilises then the new level would give me another clue. Of course none of this would have happened if I'd maintained it properly in the first place.
In the afternoon I had a Pilates lesson, which did seem a waste of a dry day. I am beginning to think that my progress with Pilates is reaching a plateau, and that perhaps monthly lessons are ceasing to be worthwhile. Since my teacher does not read my blog I can safely ruminate in semi-public. It does eat into the day, having to scrub the earth out from under my nails and drive to the other side of Colchester. The exercises are great and I am committed to them for the long haul (unfortunately, since they are about as dull as flossing one's teeth, but they work) but maybe I don't need to pay somebody else to watch me do them.
By the time I got home from my two o'clock lesson it was practically dark. It's less than five weeks to go to the shortest day. I am back on chef duties until Thursday, or possibly Friday if tomorrow's beef curry does two nights, but still managed to run slightly late with supper. I always forget how long it takes to chop things up before I can start cooking. I made Rose Elliot's butter bean bake with a cheese and crumb topping, which is partly why I needed a loaf of bread yesterday, so that I would have some crumbs. It really is cooking from scratch, baking a loaf because you want breadcrumbs, but the beans were tinned, because Waitrose didn't sell dried ones the last time I looked. The SA was enthusiastic about the bake, so our meat free Monday was a success. The Bramleys in the apple pudding came out a bit crunchy even though they were cooked for ages. I did think while I was slicing them up that they felt very hard indeed. I'm not sure they were ripe.
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