Camping in the Purbecks and, gosh, how I miss Taunton Farmers’ Market!

The only local food we managed to buy here was a “rock salmon” which is a posh name for a dogfish. We made a lime sauce, which was nice, but really it needed lots of ingredients that I could so easily have got at Taunton, such as wet garlic, fresh red onions, wrinkly tomatoes and fresh basil, and those lovely red potatoes that you can cook on charcoal wrapped in foil*, and croutons made from organic, wholemeal spelt sourdough bread.

I have noticed a lot of swallow-flocking going on this week and I suspect that the first convoy of young swallows has already left us, which means that my wife is about to start making the first batch of Christmas cakes.

The swallow migration is a lovely example of divine providence impinging upon working life: Somehow, this year’s fledglings know which way to go and set off first, followed a week or two later by their parents and a fortnight or two later by their grandparents. This means that if any of this year’s fledglings tire and fall by the wayside, their parents and then their grandparents will be along shortly to give moral support. This does not explain how instinct works, but it does explain why.

God bless our work and the swallows. See you next Thursday in the high Street.

Toby-the-rockfish.
*I mean you are supposed to wrap the red potatoes in foil, not the charcoal.

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