Sorry for the lack of posts. I've been alternating between making preparations and resting up ready for the arrival of Squiggles. In fact yesterday was my due date, so clearly Squiggles plans to be fashionably late. Aside from that, I've also been trying to help my mum to stay on top of the vegetable garden in all of its abundance! For the first time in my life, I'm in a position of having too many courgettes, and feeling the pressure of seeing them turn into marrows virtually overnight... This could become stressful! Even more than the marrows, we have a glut of cucumbers - especially the round Crystal Lemons - it's making me think 'if only we lived closer to the road, then maybe we could set up a roadside stall...' Perhaps it's time to approach one or two of the little vegetable shops in town to see if they'd like to offer them up for sale?
A couple of days ago, we found ourselves making an assessment of what needed to be done in the garden, with the results showing that every bed needs something doing, whether it be weeding between the sprouting broccoli, digging up the potatoes or harvesting the runner beans. I took it upon myself to gather all of the ripe tomatoes, cucumbers (both Crystal Lemons and the long green Marketmores), as well as the runner beans and French beans. Yesterday I finally made use of a recipe for Runner Bean Chutney which was given to me by a friend who couldn't over-emphasise how good it tasted, but the mixture turned out quite runny so we'll see whether or not it was worth it when it's reached the three-month maturity stage.
I've been feeling quite frustrated with my suddenly slumping energy levels, especially when it comes to keeping the house clean (which I feel is important, as we are planning on having a homebirth!) - it seems like every day I only manage the washing up and maybe a small area of hoovering before I'm worn out, which means I'm only succeeding in staying still, despite all the effort. The kitchen and living room floors are covered in bits which have somehow come in from outside, and the cats are trying to gradually dye the stairs carpet a deep, rusty red (adding a little more colour with each new catch), and the bathroom is somehow coated in dust... Maybe it's always been this way, but the 'nesting' instinct has suddenly brought it into sharp focus? Also I'm afraid that I'm somehow on the way to becoming a housewife (albeit not a very good one) and that Phil will assume more and more that his input is no longer necessary... Hmm, it's not all good in my world right now, I might as well admit it.