Yesterday I went to my sister's bithday lunch for her girlfriends. It was a hoot. I arrived and was told that the heating was off because someone was having a hot flush. Sue served up a delicious lunch whilst we all got stuck in comparing notes on our lives, so different and yet so similar. I often think being a woman is a universal experience, at the end of any day, no matter how big or small, its always us that end up washing the pants. Talking of which, after I toasted Sue, my comrade in arms and fellow mother mover, her fabulous friend Lisa joined the toast with thanks to Sue and our mother for mum's Hostess Trolley. During the move we had to find homes for a mountain of things, one of which was a rather fetching brown and orange 1970's Hostess trolley. Although Sue's mate Lisa is a professional cook, we were baffled by her willingness to give it house room, until she announced to our little group on Friday, that not only does it offer up wonderfully hot plates, but the Trolley of legend is great for drying underwear. They didn't put that in the ad. I do love a good laugh.
Today I helped out at the allotment trading shed and did a few jobs on the site. Having spent an hour swapping top tips on potash and potatoes with my fellow plot holders, the family started the annual improvement of our mulch paths. Chris collected mulch while I cut up the manure bags I collect over the year, putting them black side up and securing them with my secret weapons. I make pegs out of the wire hangers you get from the dry cleaners. One of the really niffty things about an allotment is that it gives you an ideal environment to recycle and reuse loads of things. But even I would be hard pressed to get so much out of a 40 year old Hostess trolley.