I have been waiting for a dry spell to dig up the potatoes. Some people just don’t learn do they? It seems, and probably was, weeks ago that I cut the haulms in an attempt to stop the dastardly blight in its tracks. As they say “out of sight is out of mind” and the mounds have slowly been furnished with an assortment of weed. Whilst counting sheep in bed the other night one of them turned to me and said “what about the potatoes?”. So begun the nether hours nightmare of what may lay beneath this weedy blanket. Perhaps it would be a fetid mass, maybe nothing at all, long in the belly of a badger or slug. So I dutifully, if not a little tardily, leapt into action and with trusty fork investigated the unknown depths of the potato patch. To my joy I found no fet but a golden crop of Linda and Nadine, a tiny amount of scab, a miniscule evidence of slug.
Still a couple more rows to investigate. I love treasure hunting.