Long Mizzle Garden

  Where hath that Lulu of Longmizzle been hiding out? It is a question the long suffering Monsieur often wonders at the weekends. Weirdly he has an app that tracks her beautiful bobbing bonce. Sometimes her big head mistakenly appears floating in areas over the English Channel, miles from land. On other occasions, the app correctly locates the elusive one.  Welcome to Island Life!  St Michael's Mount, Cornwall   St Michael's Mount garden is now closed to the public until next spring.  Saint Lulu can kick back with a drone delivered Friday night Kakahari curry and choice cold cider.  From a towering tower, she keeps a stern eye on the mainland peasants trying to reach the mount via the tidal causeway. Some are brazen enough to roll their trousers up to their knees for the crossing. These cheap flints simply cannot afford the ferry crossing. Soggy pockets lead to soggy Lidl receipts. Ferry crossers maintain their Waitrose receipt integrity. Before her Knight...

 Hello m' seafaring saints, The girls were desperate for a summer holiday adventure. One morning at breakfast I said -  "Right, we're going abroad! Pack your rucksacks." We promptly headed down to Falmouth's Prince of Wales pier & hopped on the 10:30 yellow ferry *. This took us across Falmouth bay and twenty minutes later we arrived at St Mawes harbour. The littlest one did actually believe we were in France. If only going abroad was that effortless & cheap!  * £10 adult return/ children go free on this one.   After a walk up and down by the immaculately painted seafront houses and a peek in the church hall charity sale, manned by the plumiest (we're talking King Charles' Camilla here) but loveliest two ladies, it was time for an early lunch at the harbour bakery.  "Why is everyone so friendly here?" the girls asked. We sat eating our pasties, watching the paddle boarders, sail school kids and daft swimming dogs. Then onward to my ulter...

Hello m' sunnies! Please bring tea and sunglasses.... The dry stone hedgerows bob with happy yellow heads. The roadside fields are brazen. Sometimes a distant golden patch shimmers like a mirage, appears to move around and is impossible to locate. The flower picker trucks, with their 'pickers wanted' signs, hold you up your way to and from Rosudgeon carboot sale, grrrrr.  We're talking daffodils.  These particular rows are not for picking - oh no - these bulbs are busy multiplying. Please, let them concentrate...   Scamp's daffodil field, Falmouth, Cornwall     All the pictures on today's post were taken one glorious sunny Sunday morning (27th March): a trip to Scamp's 14 acre daffodil field on the outskirts of Falmouth. Many thanks to the super helpful Adrian  (Scamp Junior) for welcoming us, and the fab Mylor Garden Club for organising.     In Britain, we can apparently thank the Romans for bringing the daffodil over. (Monty Python: What ...