We have gained a wonderful colony of bees in our bird house which has been studiously avoided for years by the feathered friends for whom it was acquired. This is a beautiful to behold and they are a strangely mixed lot and very well organized. It is also the battle of the Begonias time again. The Sainted One has behaved immaculately recently working like a slave in the garden and painting walls to give moi a fabulous welcome when came home having lost a foot of bowel (not while quietly shopping in Harrods you understand,) but in a private hospital with a procedure performed by a genius who has what are described by the adoring throng which accompany him on his rounds as “beautiful hands.”. He managed to extract what looked like a foot long exotic serpent in the most attractive shades of pink and lilac. I have it on my screen and the family gasp in wonder. I feel transformed without this revolting thing and am astonished to learn that people have seven feet of colon and so one foot is not to be missed.
However in every life a little rain must fall, and the S O has gone crazy with those bloody begonias again. I hate them more than any other flowers except red hot pokers about which I cannot bare to think at the moment . The monstrous begonias are planted under cover of darkness or when I am not looking. I have only ever seen them in municipal parks or on roundabouts. Many people have come to cheer me up as a reach for the painkillers which send you nuts. I do take them to look at the beautiful garden ( a credit to the SO) but I always have to point out that the horrible little specimens are nothing to do with me. All of them look at them knowingly and mutter words of condolence . Meanwhile the exotic Sarah Raven borders shiver with embarrassment at sharing their patch with these abominations. There is some strange atavistic thing going on here I think it is very dark actually.