The Good Life

We recently moved to a house with a garden and, like good little Tom and Barbaras we also have a composter into which we throw all kinds of decomposable stuff (including the vegetables that we’re not that fond of which live in the fridge until time’s winged chariot renders them inedible).

We don’t pretend to know much about green-fingered shenanigans, though our position as novice 21st century gardeners was never more apparent than the other day when my wonderwife tossed a whole broccoli floret into the composter despite it (the floret) being still in the vacuum-packed cellophane at the time.

Maybe by sprinkling the resulting mulch around the vegetable patch we could have produced some pre-packed runner beans or ready-chopped bagged salad. It’s such a hassle doing it yourself.

[disclaimer: just to clarify – my wonderwife is aware of the non-decompositional qualities of plastics, and neglected to remove the cellophane because she forgot to, rather than thinking it was okay to pop it in. But that’s not as entertaining a story.]