Every 100 years of so, we get a new freezer.
Our last one, complete with its own polar ice cap and inability to defrost itself, was positively antique and ready for the white freezer heaven in the sky, or the rag n’ bone man, who ever arrived first.
Among the frozen chops, chips & chuntney (I made that last bit up) was this.
Yes…it’s grass…but not any ol’ grass I’ll have you know.
This is prize lawn from the hallowed turf of Chelsea Football Club slowly defrosting after 8 1/2 years in my freezer.
For Mr TG’s 40th birthday I arranged a selection of Chelsea FC-related gifts, that ranged from a personal letter from The Special One, a signed photo, to a tour of the stadium.
While listening to the ramblings of our tour guide, the groundsmen were finishing off their pitch manicure. As one of the groundsmen parked his mower, everyone in our group (not me…I’m a lady) jumped the barriers to grab fistfuls of the freshly cut lawn. I elegantly stayed put, frantically, scrambling through our ‘day out’ rucksack looking for something to carry home Mr TG’s treasure.
This weekend, the fully defrosted Chelsea FC lawn cuttings will be ceremoniously scattered around the Tidy Garden.
Trust me…it absolutely stinks like rotten feet.
It’s NOT going in the new freezer!