Chants Cottage

Chants Cottage: Leggy Lovelies and a Brazen Hussy


Sorry to disappoint those who might be disappointed (Rod Stewart, other blokey blokes except blokes who like blokes, ladies who like ladies, ‘impresarios’ and such) but these leggy lovelies are not in fact the sort of leggy lovelies who might populate belipglossed polyester clad dance troupes assembled to frug along to ‘S-S-S-Single Bed’ on Top of the Pops circa 1976. (If I had anything to do with a dance troupe they would inevitably have to be called Cold Porridge and wear woollen bodystockings and hairnets and welly shoes.) Ho no, my leggy lovelies look like this…

V-V-V-Veggie bed…. Phwoarrrrrrr!!

I’ve written leggy lovelies too many times now. (I did that the other day with the new fangled word facepalm. Facepalm. Facepalm. Facepalm. See?). Yes, they are my tomato plants, currently residing on the sitting room window sill. For some reason if you grow things on a windowsill as opposed to in a greenhouse they grow leggy ie all long and spindly like Elle McPherson / Olive Oyl. I suppose cos they are striving to get into the light, the pampered ingrates. Give ‘em all the constant heat and water they could ever desire (except when you leave the door open and forget to water them) and all they do is try their damnedest to break through the nearest window and in the process stretch themselves like so much silly putty. So I have had enough and I am evicting them. Yesterday I went to Tuckers and bought some grow bags to put in the vast crystal palace that is the two for the price of two greenhouse, as yet full of nought but draughts and spiders. Whilst there I was lured in to join the world’s most pathetic loyalty scheme. For every £50 you spend you get… wait for it…. a ONE POUND VOUCHER! I’ve got my eye on a cider press… I earned two pounds towards it yesterday. I calculate it will only take me another 260 years to accrue the required amount in vouchers. I bought a lot of growbags and other stuff too, including one of those dog ball chucker things. I tested it on Dudley (I thought the ducks might have ball / bill issues. Not to mention the being in the same field as me issues. And being ducks in general issues). The ball soared into the air and disappeared from view, possibly having joined a few of the nearer satellites in orbitting the Earth. He gave me a look through his furbrows. The look said “Have you seen the length of my legs recently?” and rolled in some fox poo, evidently regarding this as a much better use of his precious time than traversing the Earths curvature in pursuit of a cheap orange tennis ball. Another pampered ingrate. That dog ball chucker cost me one pound and fifty pence. That’s 75 quids worth of vouchers. Anyway I am now the proud owner of eleven* growbags (I only paid for ten so either the bloke who loaded them into the pick up liked the cut of my jib or can’t count. I’m going with the second of these options. Not sure he would have known a jib if it whacked him in the face, appearing as he did due his total lack of response to anything I said to be a moustachioed Devonian forklift truck robot. Either way, it was a freebie I didn’t have to spend £150 acquiring. Thus concludes my withering scathe upon the Tuckers loyalty scheme. I thank you.)

My entry. Chelsea flower show. It’s conceptual, okay?

Wazzing the bags two at a time in a broken comedy wheelbarrow intent upon divesting its contents anywhere but where I wanted them, from the yard around the lean-to, through the small field and veg garden to the greenhouse which is right against the boundary was a bit like taking part in It’s A Knockout without the idiotic guffawing and foam penguin costume and with more swearing. Anyway, I won at least. So this afternoon’s task is to get the teeny little plants into the bags, or some of them at least. I have about 900 tomato plants and space for thirty three according to the convention of three plants per growbag. Not to mention the chilli, aubergine and pepper plants. And the tomato plants in the greenhouse. So if anyone wants a leggy tomato plant or six please feel free to come and help yourself. And have some fecking eggs while you’re at it.

Spot the hen cack.

Some neighbours came round the other day, and very nice they were too, but they brought with them a gift of six enormous white duck eggs. Talk about, er, eggs to here. Any egg usage ideas gratefully accepted. I’ll swap one for a tomato plant, if you want. Or an egg. Or six eggs. I’ll even scrape the poo off them first, if you insist. I resorted to making a souffle last night. It was quite nice but a right faff. Will stick to Fluffy Omelette in future (recipe in this post). Less faff, almost the same. Anyway, to the Chants Cottage hussy. Our small cat is pregnant. This is she:

Butter would not melt, would it? It’s always the quiet ones. And the ones you haven’t quite got round to speying yet. This is her paramour:

Help yourself, why don’t you? Oh, you have.

Or thereabouts. He is quite frankly the most enormous cat I’ve ever seen. He is very pleased with himself too, as you might expect. The other night, Dudley as the man animal of the house caught up with him and gave him a good talking to, setting him right on one or two points.

Well that’s told HIM.

* ERRATUM (old foreign for ‘I’m a durbrain’): Upon shifting said bags into greenhouse I find that it is in fact me who cannot count. There are only ten. Dur.

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12 thoughts on “Chants Cottage: Leggy Lovelies and a Brazen Hussy

  1. charlotted_uk

    Brilliant! Just in time to read this over lunch – (a hummous, left over mash and toasted nut pitta pocket – if yer interested).
    Love your cat is she called Hussey? We would like a kitten in September can you post them?

    • Chants Cottage

      Cheese on toast for me. No, she is not called Hussey though maybe she ought to be. Her official name is Tilly Nibbles (kids picked a name each) but she is generally known as the small. We also have the big and the funny (who is actually a stray but I think Mrs Hanby used to look after her and she’s carried on hanging around). I will stick one of the kittens in a Jiffy bag for you, along with two dozen eggs. Don’t worry, I’ll pop in a few Iams and make a hole or two with a pencil in it first. xxxxxxxx

  2. The Jules

    Loved this! Like an de-pooed egg, crammed with a variety of goodness. Leggy vegetation, wheels on barrows and slutty felines! Ace.

    P.S. Have you got any videoa of Cold Porridge? Er . . . asking for a friend.

    • Chants Cottage

      Why thank you. As of yet, unfortunately no such troupe is yet in existence, but as Les Dawson was to the Roly Polies, so shall I be to Cold Porridge. I have herewith posted a small ad in the Whitestone Parish Chronicle, and am planning to leaflet outside Sunday’s WI meeting down at the Mechanics Institute. You can tell your ‘friend’ I’ll pass on any promising audition footage.

  3. The Idiot Gardener

    I always thought Dee Dee was the dirty one!

    I like the Tucker loyalty scheme. My local homebrew store has a better one. I go there and buy everything even though it costs more than elsewhere, and I let them know that I know it costs more BUT I am supporting them as a local store, then they short change me, and then when I get them to order in something special at a higher cost than elsewhere and they get the wrong thing and I decline to buy it at a high cost because it is the wrong thing, they tell me to “fuck off”.

    There’s nothing worse than thinking you’ve got a freebie, and then finding out you haven’t. When I was buying the fencing the forklift lad put nine rolls into the pick-up, although I’d only ordered seven. My mate and I just smirked, neither saying nothing. Then he went off to get a few other bits, and gave us those, then he gave us our copy of the paper work, then he turned and shouted a lad over to take two of the rolls off (they came strapped up in nines).

    Mind you, when I bought the bits for my bathroom the manager of the shop turned out to be a right cock when one of the taps was faulty. He got a bit nasty until he realised I was quite happy to punch him, and even then was really reluctant to give us a refund. He eventually paid up, and I reminded him that he also owed me a waste, which had cost me £10. He sent a girl away, and when she came back she nearly threw the box at me. It struck me that the box was much heavier than a click-clack waste, so i smiled and walked away. It turned out to be a designer bath filler worth £300. I love it when rude bastards lose out!

    Now, where’s my nearest Tuckers?

  4. Chants Cottage

    Cor lumme, seem to have rather touched a nerve there IG, old bean. Rightly so, mind. I too love it when rude bastards lose out, but have felt a tad guilty since posting this as it may have given the impression that I was disgruntled with my dealings at Tuckers. Far from it friends, I am more than gruntled with the Tuckers shopping experience. Tuckers is ace. The staff are really friendly and helpful (and the CUSTOMERS are too in my experience, presumably because they are having such a nice time as well). And even moustache robot helping guy was perfectly affable in his own non responsive kind of way. I suspect, dear IG that your nearest of the two (count’em) branches is my Crediton store, but considering you live in Surrey or such like it might be a bit much to start shopping there. The other one is in Ashburton which is of little more use. They do have an online shop through which they appear to sell a rather large quantity of bottled beers and they do seeds too AND they run a traditional malthouse… look’em up – Edwin Tucker. Actually I don’t deserve them. I’m sobbing with remorse as I write this.

  5. Chants Cottage

    You know, the thing is he did kind of look like a lego person. In the nicest possible way, obviously. Ooh, I might have to make my own branch of Tuckers now with the little Lego. (The Duplo would be no good at all. One cannot fashion mini polytunnels and horse calm juice with Duplo.)

  6. Carol Dance

    I don’t know what horse calm juice is, but I think I want some! Is that what Moustache robot helping guy drinks down his local – The Lego Lamb (so sad I know, but best I can do!)

    • Chants Cottage

      I have no idea what it is either, of whether it really exists. I’m sure it does though, and if it does, Tuckers is the kind of place to sell it. They do sell things like chicken antidepressants (possibly). I think the Lego Lamb is too upscale for MRHG. He prefers the Lego Arms – chewed up by new improved dog and cast under the settee with a hairbrush and the spare car keys and several lengths of variously used bog roll. A ho ho.

  7. Pingback: Chants Cottage: My Big Fat Sheepy Baby | Vegetablism

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