David and I have just spent a blissful weekend in the West… Bristol for a night then camping on the Gower peninsular, a tent caked with crumbling Bestival mud and a truly world-class, spectacular view.

We scrambled over rocks, got lost in woods, squashed jellyfish under our franchement ill-prepared city footwear on windy beaches and got sunburnt. We found a load of amazing wild garlic and cooked a perfect lemon and wild garlic risotto with young local asparagus over our pathetic camp stove.

We drank red wine, hot chocolate and a lot of tea and slept like babies.

Back in London and I hear my first two eco blogs for work are too libellous to publish. Oops. Reigning in my slandering enthusiasm, I shall focus on my weekend for some zen-like inspiration and see where that takes me, legality-wise.

I’ll mull it over in the kitchen where I’ll need some challenges what with electricity and 0mph winds making cooking seem dull tonight. I’m going to make some wild garlic pesto with the remaining crop – it’d be good to tempura the flowers but sadly that’s too fancy for lonesome dining.

Alas, the whining churn of the food whizzer is not quite so sweet as the crashing of nearby waves.

3 responses to “gower

  1. I used to go to the Gower when I was a child, so your description of your weekend away was not only amusing but extremely nostalgic – especially the memory of the wild garlic.

  2. the gower, as mystical as the batsman and equally pure

  3. Sounds fabulous. Would it be as good if you didn’t live in London and didn’t have two extremes to compare?

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