Update

Lovely heatwave this weekend and double Reekster walks down the Braidburn. The rave was winding down, with silences between the thumpy music. The DJ must be getting tired after over a week of raving. The ravers are friendly and happy lazing in the heat with beer and cider, and say hello as you pass, smile and nod. Very little trash left because the dreadlocked are eco-warriors, to their credit. The golfers are outraged at the music, but I see no reason they can't share the space some of the time.

Her Catness wants something, but what I don't know. She reaches up to pat my legs, looking sincerely into my face, or grabs my legs as I pass (with claws retracted). What is your problem, Noosh? Your water and crunchie bowls are filled and still You beg. It can't be that You're bored of crunchies because You turn down fresh prawns and baked salmon, and Your litter tray is clean. Here She is in one of my favourite postures called 'bunny paws', after those ridiculous tufts between Her digits which She can't stand being touched. She also uses bunny paws to hold down her bowl when eating, though crunchies don't struggle much.

The tomatoes have been cut down and added to H.'s compost bin- RIP. The fruit delivered was sparse. No bees or wind to cross-pollinate the plants. Next year, we'll be doing artificial insemination with a paintbrush- a floral sex therapy. It'll be all Sungold next year- much more flavourful and prolific than Shirley.