Friday, July 6, 2012

Rocket. Yehh.


It all began with a sunny afternoon in the garden... On the way zigzagging around the garden I had some fun plucking weeds. There aren't many and it gives me the same kind of nonsense pleasure as picking a scab. Between fits of weeding I also decided to pull out one of the cauliflower (its enormous leaves slightly more impressive than its little fluffy white head in the middle) and rehome some potted seedlings who were busting to get out into the big world of the open garden. 


And then, I picked some rocket. And cripes, though I love having my own continuous supply of that little peppery salad leaf, I CANNOT get that flipping Def Leppard song out of my head every single time I look at that plant. Not even the song, but just the uninspiring one line 'Rocket!!! Yeeeh!... '
It's driving us apart! More and more I edge towards the baby spinach for comfort and for fear of that line returning. My favourite eggs on toast accompaniment is starting to bring only pain. Its not you, little rocket. Its me!   
Well, actually, it's probably Def Leppard. 
There's only one thing for it. The cause is the cure. I'm going to have to do it. There's no other way.....

 Rest your little head, my green leafed cock rocker... We shall be together again soon.

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