In the heading I spell onion the French way because this is a French onion. A Breton onion to be precise. The sets of which this is one beginning to swell, regular readers will know, came from Lucy and if grown in the region are allowed by the appellation rules to to be Roscoff onions. In Tunbridge Wells they must be just Breton onions I suppose. But special none the less. Just look at the colour.
Some pelleted dried chicken manure which I had in a container in a sort of shed has returned to its original farmyard state. The heavy rain of recent months has somehow got into the container and the result would hold its own against the detritus from the best chicken runs in the country. A perfume like no other. Passers by may be tempted to hold their noses.
Is it possible that watching so much athletics can make you thinner? Or if not thinner, leave you fitter.