The Way To a (Wo)man’s Heart Is Through Her . .

Even occasional readers of the twaddle on this blog will know about J and her compost heaps – her passion and love for that which enriches her soil knows no bounds! A few years ago, a professor of horticultural science from our local university suggested that she should accompany him to meetings with local farmers in an attempt to educate them on the benefits of composting. She is also very enthusiastic for the creatures that show their appreciation of her efforts by moving in to the centrally heated, organic warehouses that are her heaps. (these heaps get hot enough to cook in and to prove the point, I did just that by poaching an egg) Huge grubs are proudly displayed; mouse nests are carefully moved and blinking great, fat toads are gently transferred to new homes away from the dangers of her garden fork whenever she sets about the job of moving her ‘pride and joy’ from bin to garden.

a pat in the right place

Now, J and I have been together for a long time – a fact that never ceases to surprise and delight us. Expectations that a hot-house rose from Zambia, or a half pound box of Cadbury’s Milk Tray will be all that is needed to curry a favour or two, have faded as cholesterol and blood pressure pills (together with a red meat, salt and fat free diet) have kicked in. However, with age and experience comes a wily cunning – I know exactly how to woo the lady of my life, and set her Yorkshire heart a flutter. The days of climbing up the vine to her balcony, rose clamped between teeth, may be over, but a pat in the right place at the right time is all it takes!

Alan in Okçular