I got really excited and impulsively made the investment in 3 herb pots
from Sainsbury.
I bought parsley, mint and coriander as those were the ones I thought I’d
use the most. I set them up on the kitchen window on a matching saucer and felt
all smug with myself.
Fresh herbs.
Anytime I want some.
Just pluck a few here and there and sprinkle artfully on our food.
Won’t it feel posh?
Yes, I felt smug for about an hour and then Spiderman came home and gave
me the look.
You know the look. It says:
What have the poor plants done to deserve this?
Are you a serial plant murderer?
Why do you never learn?
Because he knows. He KNOWS. I can’t grow anything. In the United States,
it’s called having a green thumb, in the United Kingdom it is called having
green fingers.
I have no green appendage at all. None. Which is a shame as my Mum is so
green she’s practically a Martian. She just walks by and plants voluntarily
perk up. I walk by and the commit suicide. FACT. She’s always had this gift.
When I was about seven, I wrote a book entitled The New Story of My Family (although
in my handwriting it looked a bit like thehewstoryuvmyfamilet) Her page included the line,
This is my mother.
She likes to plant everything in the world.
But I am determined to make this work. Every time I go into the kitchen
I get all excited and shout,
I did it!
They’re still alive!
I don’t believe it!
It has been five days since I brought them home. That must be a new
record for me.
I have used them a few times--particularly the coriander. I’m beginning
to wonder if I’m going to pluck the poor thing bald before it has a chance to
grow any more leaves.
Spiderman is still dubious, but wait until we have A Girl called Jack’s carrot
and onion falafel with parsley and coriander on Wednesday night. Then he’ll
see.
You’ll all see. (laughs maniacally)
Let’s just hope they’ll be alive
come Wednesday Morning.
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