At last, a bit of decent weather. 'Er come down the rockery t'other day, gave it a bit of a sorting, and pulled out a few things that didn't oughter be there. For the first time in 'er life, 'er's successfully grown Michaelmas daisies. Blimey, 'er's ecstatic, anyone would think she's grown Kew Gardens in a pot from an orange pip.
Anyway, 'er asks me whether I fancy a turn round. Not bothered, really. Anyway, she 'as a go and nearly put her bloomin' back out again. I got swizzled round a quarter turn and that's it. Must 'ave forgotten 'ow solid we are, me and the old snail. Nice view, though, and I don't have that fern tickling me ear no more.
'Er's planning a bit of a shopping trip tomorrow. I'd like to bet 'er comes 'ome with a load of bulbs to put in, ready for spring. Watch it, missus, I said. Don't do yer back in putting 'em in. Honestly, what are we to do with 'er?
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