So very good. An earthy Leksand crispbread (I’m not the only one who goes to Ikea for food, am I?) topped with creamy, tangy French goat’s cheese and a sliced Victoria plum from our own tree. A perfect combination of crunch and smooth, juicy and dry, sweet and sour.
Sigh. Summer’s coming to an end, the wasps have really taken over the plum tree and the fruit we’ve salvaged needs using up, fast. Today, a sandwich and a kuchen, jam already made, and a conserve of rosewater-poached plums is planned. I hope they last til tomorrow night.
The lavender’s still giving the postie free aromatherapy every time he comes (or, as he might see it, soaking his trousers and being really annoying and full of bees). I have waited for days now until it was dry for long enough to cut some stems to dry and make lavender bags with – gifts, perhaps, or just to enjoy at home?
Alas, the hanging bunches of lavender seem to make me sneeze a bit… Some background – the Sainsbury’s bag has the last remnants of Easter chocolate lurking in its recesses, and the blue thing is the pole that extends the window washing squeegee that I bought after our regular window-cleaner left and the bloke who took over the round had a revolutionary system that just used water and didn’t squeegee it adequately, effectively charging us £11 to make all the windows in the house streaky, which, clearly wasn’t right, so I just told him that we’d do it ourselves, which we do, but only about four times a year and even then it’s as an activity to entertain the kids and I have to tell you a 2 year old and a 7 year old don’t really wash windows that well.
What else is new? Oh, Mr Rhubarb’s laptop – superslim and deliciously lightweight, it needed a sleeve to protect it in transit. He browsed online for a while before it dawned that rather than spend £80 (uh-huh) on a not-very exciting slipcover online, he could commission and receive a custom-made one from his devoted wife. I’m pretty pleased with this…
He chose all the fabric himself – that’s what 11 years of marriage to a stashaholic does to a man.
