Herbal Decline

The breakfast that became afternoon tea: bananas and yoghurt
(I gave in to the temptations of a bacon roll on my way to work)

Fried egg & bacon, and tea
(I decapitated one of the monks)

Croissant (and seven dwarfs -- spectators, not food), and tea

Generally herbs can expect a poor innings with me; and this blog may well serve as the damning proof of this (unless I stop popping my breakfasts next to them, thus revealing my shame)… Even the current crop, which seemed to be faring well on my program of neglect, interrupted by sporadic, remorseful -- please don't die -- drenchings, may have had their chips. The wan, wilted specimens I encountered this evening -- having forgotten to water them before I went away this weekend -- did not speak to my skills as a horticulturalist… Tomorrow's breakfast will tell.

Be Careful What You Say in Front of the Ficus

Banana and (pretty tepid when I drank it) tea

If I saw this in a spy film, I would think it utterly preposterous, and yet The Guardian tells me (and who am I to question them) that whatever I say in the presence of a potted plant I say to all and sundry: or at least to all of the sundry that have the wherewithal to visually record the imperceptible (to the human eye) vibrations of a nearby ficus and translate its quiverings into the very thing I said.

How long before James Bond is getting his intel from a packet of hula hoops?

Oopsy

A live orchid that was not left in my care(lessness).

Still no sign of the card reader for the breakfast pictures, and ... five days into 2012 and one of my resolutions (better blogger) has already fallen by the wayside.

In other news, it turns out that the clips that were holding the orchid that I forgot to water on to its supporting canes are actually rather good hair grips. I think they call this a silver lining. Not sure that my father would agree (he was rather vexed to discover that I had killed just about all of the house plants in his absence). It's just when its pouring with rain outside, one rather forgets that it isn't raining indoors too. In fact, in parts of our house it does also rain indoors -- but there are no plants there. Worse luck. Mea Culpa. Hortus Siccus. Amo, Amas, Amat.