Home sweet home

We've been in the house for three weeks now, and we are mostly sorted. We have a spare bed, our bread maker and a pile of football junk near the front door. And now we have broadband. Yay technology.
We also have a garden, which we have planted with tomatoes, leeks, onions, aubergines and strawberries. And we have a little plastic glasshouse which we are eagerly watching to see when our lettuces, spinach and carrots start to sprout. Unfortunately Adam and I found out our collective knowledge about gardening in the northern hemisphere is nil, so we are not overly confident that our crops will work. For example, we bought asparagus seeds for our garden, but not trees because we might only be in this house for six months. Asparagus takes three years to grow an edible crop. And I could only identify a handful of plants in the nursery, most of which I knew from grandparent-generation gardens.

My work is going well and I am even enjoying my commute through the green country side. The half hour train ride has given me the chance to start on my Christmas books. At the moment I am reading Lonely Planet Unpacked Again - travel disaster stories from around the world. Which is a very good way to get your travel story fix without getting too itchy feet. It has made me feel like I should be writing about our disasters, but kidnappings, language difficulties, scams and tropical diseases are reasonably rare around here. Maybe I'll have something more exciting to report once I get a bike and start riding to the station down muddy back country lanes.

We are heading off for our first adventure to the big smoke tomorrow. I’m off to the Turner Whistler Monet exhibition, food shopping for things that most English don’t eat and watching Chelsea win the premiership on the big screen. I’m not sure what Adam is planning, but I’m sure we will fit in a humungous sushi lunch.