Mandy Sutter, Writer

It’s the day after Valentine’s, and the long-stemmed red roses that were £1.99 at the greengrocer’s yesterday are now reduced to 49p. He has a lot left.

I’m a regular visitor these days and notice such things. Down at the allotment, you see, all the plants (except the weeds) have now either been withered by the frost, drowned by the flood, or eaten by creatures with various numbers of legs. Everything in the vegetable compartment of the Reluctant Gardener’s fridge today, therefore, has come from the greengrocer’s.

The snow has gone, like something we all dreamt. At the allotment I share with Dad (87), it’s a shock to see the ground with no white blanket.  It looks so brown. And bare. I’m surprised by my own surprise. And then, as I wander around the plot, I begin waxing lyrical. Ah, the human [...]

On winter days, there’s no finer sight than that of one’s child eating  homegrown vegetables. I say this even though my child is a child-substitute, is hairy and will eat almost anything, taking the big bits through to the sitting room to eat on the rug. No, I’m not talking about Mr Mandy Sutter. I’m [...]