Slow sloes

I am so frustrated with my blackthorn bushes. I bought them from one of those “Send a tree as a gift” places as a gift for someone that couldn’t make the Christmas party that I intended to hand them over at. So into the beds they went (and into some mulled apple juice went the accompanying sloe gin). But they’re absolutely awful. They’re growing at a snail’s pace and occupying an entire raised bed as they do so. Last year I got cross and stuck in the peony that I bought at the Chelsea Flower Show sell-off. And this year I think I’m going to make the bed useful. It was supposed to provide me with lots of lovely fat sloes so that I could make South West London Sloe Gin but so far they still look like rubbish twigs in the raised beds. So I’m going to plant something in with them. I haven’t decided whether it’ll be kale or broccoli yet but it’ll probably be one or the other. Stupid slow sloes. 

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We farm a three acre smallholding in Hampshire, England, having fled London in pursuit of the good life for our little family. We mess about with an assorted menagerie and try to be as self-sufficient as possible in meat and fruit and vegetables whilst enjoying our plot and an outdoors lifestyle with our son. I am the luckiest person that I know.

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