Such a lovely day here in the Midlands, and rather than go out this afternoon for a walk and refreshments, we decided to stay in the garden and catch up on some work. I love a gentle potter, but I haven't done anything on my own little plot for ages and ages.... I've been to parks, schools, roundabouts, forgotten bits behind bins, and on the corners of thoroughfares, but nothing in my own garden and it's a disgrace! Shame on me. Go on Rainbow, into the corner with you and put that plant pot on your head and cast your eyes downwards, and be thoroughly ashamed.
I lifted the lid of the black bin in which DH stores the leftover raw veg and trimmings, expecting it to be empty. No, no snakes or toads, but there were worms. Not just say, a hundred, but a thick layer almost 2 inches deep of small red wriggly things.
Well, dear reader, I confess to a muffled scream. The lid was flung upwards in my haste to escape. Sadly, I failed to notice the thick lining of worms on said lid, which soon parted company from the plastic once the correct velocity was reached. Unfortunately for me, most of them landed on my arm and head. I confess, I ran. Pointless of course, as worms are not known for giving chase but there you go. I shook my head until my ears rang and tore off my clothes doing a passable impression of a Life quilt as I hastened to the shower and a slug of gin. Phew and yuck.
I've also put a coat of paint in the background of the portraits. No worms here.