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The countdown is on. The next time I’ll be waffling on it will be December, don’t panic, don’t panic.
Simon cowell bottled it and respect for the peasant is out the window.
The lull before the storm, the heartache, before the headache, the plant before the seed, November is always a quiet month.
Salads or stews, trunks or wellies. Yes, it’s our British summer, but do not fear, hot or cold, the products are here. I’m a poet and I don’t know it.
A Favourite of mine is at the end of its season – asparagus (pictured) ends with the summer solstice and the date is June 21.
If you fancy a career change don’t try the veg game, unless you’re insane. There is no rhyme or reason to this difficult trade, the game is quiet and they try to put up the prices but we won’t let them will we?
I know, whenever we have bad weather the country comes to a standstill, but there will always be heroes.
What happens above our heads affects our pockets. We may look out of the window and see no probs but farmers around the globe may not be so lucky.
Right, we’ve had doom and gloom, we are British. History proves us: back us into a corner and we will come out fighting.