bench, lettuces, free

Bench by the sea.

Earlier this summer I found that pigeons had taken a liking to a particular variety of lettuce - the crisp sort with big, cabbage-like hearts sometimes described as "iceberg" - and cropped the tops of the seedling almost as soon as I had set them out. I resolved to take no notice of the attacks and simply left the headless lettuces to their own devices. Today I note that my tolerance has paid off. Almost all the cropped plants have developed into satisfyingly plump and crisp vegetables to be proud of. I can't say  the same for the  green peas .The  pigeons virtually levelled the sweet and succulent shoots with their eager beaks. I can't say I blame them. Among the pea-sticks which I optimistically arranged  round them, I today managed to harvest, half a dozen pods - a poor reward but valued perhaps for their scarcity.  I shall cook them with a few of the remaining broad beans and few lovage leaves,  as served by the smart restaurant  where we lunched on Heidi's birthday.

This afternoon I feel the breath of freedom. In Grosvenor Precinct, I am approached by a young man in red tee shirt with words printed in white letters proclaiming a cult of some sort. He carries an ominous clip-board.  "This is the best way you can spend the next two minutes of your time."  He says adding "Let's do it."  "Let's don't," I say. and walk on, with a growing sense of relief, that I have saved two valuable minutes of my time for my own purposes and under my own direction.