Gnome

Get yerself blogging, woman. Yes, I know, you've 'ad yer family coming and going back and forward like bloomin' shuttles, and they're all 'aving birthdays and wotnot. I know you're on with a book about that blooming 'amster (blimey, why does it always have to be rodents with 'er?) And I know you're trying to do what you can with the garden in a summer like a monsoon in Iceland, but there's work to be done, so write yer bloggin' blog. It's not difficult, all yer need is the composterooter, or gong-hooter or whatever you want to call it. Know what I call it. You do it like this - tap, tap, tap. Got it? Oh, give over, I'll do it meself.

While you're at it, good to see that you finally got yerself down the bottom of the garden today, even if was only for them blackberries. Fair enough, last time you attempted it you ended up ankle deep in mud, but you have to keep making the effort. Before yer know it, them weeds will have organised themselves, built a bridge, and headed over the river.