This bottle was chosen in spectacular fashion by St Ithamar, whose feast day it was on Tuesday. If I were superstitious or religious, I would say it was a miracle. Within ten minutes of me opening a nasty bottle of wine to celebrate St Ithamar, this one shot its cork and spewed wine all over.
We have drunk this bottle slowly, and tonight had a glass in the garden, inspecting our rose (which is fabulous) and gooseberries (less so). Summer evenings are fabulous and too few. Too many 'fabulouses' there. Why do I get stuck on words? Clumsy.
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| Our Roses (plus a foxglove) |
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