I have cleared the greenhouse. I evicted about 666 snails, and found that I had a ludicrous number of pots. So, I washed the best ones, and filled (gasp) three large binbags with the rest. Three! Admittedly one had a tubtrug in as well, but still!
By the way, never buy coloured tub trugs. I had 2 black ones and 1 yellow one, all bought at the same time. The 2 black ones are still invaluable and as new, but the handles have come off the yellow one and it's gone all cracked. I must buy a replacement - a black one this time though!
I dug over the beds and mulched them with rabbit droppings and compost. They were very dry, so I watered and dug, and mixed, and mixed and dug and watered, and mixed... I felt like a cement mixer by the end, (did this both on Saturday, then again on Sunday!) but my soil looks fabulously loamy. Now, the key thing will be making sure that it stays watered. I've bought an automatic watering system, and have set up an old plastic bin as a reservoir. If all goes well, I hope to get the greenhouse gutters draining into it.
I found that ivy and (gasp again) couch grass had invaded the area under the benches. I feel very neglectful, (couch grass! In a greenhouse! I can just feel Monty Don disapproving of me) but I hope I've managed to root it all out now. I have decided to leave the ferns. I've got a nice selection of hartstongue and male ferns under my benches, and I think they give a nice Victorian feel...
I have planted nasturtians, spring onions, a row of mixed salad, and a row of mixed stirfry greens. Oh, and some cress. With a bit of luck I have evicted enough snails that at least some of them will survive to the point of being edible. I'm all hopeful about them now.
I've lost my garden fork! I can't find it anywhere. I just know I'm going to stand on it at some point.
Took a long walk along the river at Rix Hill on Saturday, and then afterwards took the dogs into Tavistock to buy a laundry basket from the Basket Lady. Going to Tavistock with dogs is rather like accompanying a celebrity. Children come and ask to pat the doggies. Adults come and do the same thing, only in slightly different words. Everyone asks solicitously about Mollydog's limp, and you have to explain many times that, yes, greyhounds ARE very thin...
Mollydog absolutely adores it, although she is constantly on the lookout to see if any of them has dropped a sandwich. Poor Az finds it rather a trial, but I do think it is good for him to practice. I have to be quick to step in front if we get approached by children who have not been taught to ask before petting. I'm sure he wouldn't bite them, but I don't see why he should have to put up with being groped when it worries him.