Alone in a bench in The Grove a young man (cropped hair, brown jacket, blue jeans, suede shoes) is feeding from a bottle a very small baby nestled in his arms.
A glut of courgettes (zucchini) is becoming an embarrassment. Having already distributed a recipe for a grated courgette frittata and suggested other means of ingenious means of cooking them, I detect fear in the eyes of neighbours when they see me approaching with a basket of the vegetables. Neighbours are beginning to tire of them I can see. But to day while cutting the hedge I manage to off load several pounds to passers by whom I know enough to approach. To my pleasure they are gratefully received, even when the little green fingers, neglected for a day or so, have grown into marrows.
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