A GLASS OF CLONED MILK

Lycopersicon esculentum 'Sungold'.

I was going to rant and rail about the media trying desperately to whip up another destructive and pointless food scare over the possibility of, shock, horror, CLONED milk finding its way into the food chain. But the whole thing is too damn silly to bother with and, frankly, I can't be arsed. One thing that did scare me rigid, though, was discovering in the Independent that in the House of Commons, there is only one - yep, just one - scientist. Lord help us all! The Luddites are in charge and there'll be free homeopathy for all. Hurrah!

But instead of ranting, and because heck, it's August and lazy times are here, I thought I'd show you a little of Wendy's opulence on the tomato front. This is how she looked on Monday, before the PG raided all the ripe tomatoes for cooking and was spotted grumfling them raw, in the kitchen. I've stopped some of the plants, but others will be trained round the roof, for late fruits, and because it's a bit of a laugh, going against the text books.

Sad Thing - the swifts have pretty well gone. I saw some flying high yesterday, but our nesting birds have dumped us for warmer climes, the ungrateful little sods.

Amazing thing. Two ravens flew over the house yesterday. Are we doomed? Is this the end, the coming of Wotan, signifying the doom and sending Brunnhilde to snatch me off to Valhalla for an eternity of gardening leave? Don't jest. Brrrrrrrrrr! Scary!!!

Happy thing - when I pruned the massive yellow banksian rose on our house, I exposed a song thrushes nest with three roughly 1 week old fledglings. I withdrew sharpish and mum thrush has continued the rearing task. Lovely and so good to see a succesful late brood. It will be her third, at least, so three chicks shows she's a dam' fine bird.

Because they are invasive aliens, gurus and boffins have been having a serious down on buddleias - or buddle jars, as we're supposed to call them these days. I have been rejoicing in the glory of Buddleja davidii 'Nanho Blue.' It isn't blue but the bush is quite small and dainty - by buddle jar standards - and has an exquisite fragrance.

Buddleja davidii 'Nanho Blue'

I pruned the tops from the most vigorous half dozen stems in June, to temper its growth a little and to secure more late blooms. That works well and I'll do it again next year. Each February I take off about 70% of all growth.

The buddle jar - isn't it ridiculous? - grows near a batch of agapanthus seedlings which have a good smattering of soft blues and whites. They're bone hardy and die right back underground each winter. August is the proper time for aggas, just went so many other garden flowers are about as appealing as unlaundered pants.

My seedling agapanthuses.

I'm reading John Updike's The Widows of Eastwick - I love his take on religion and hypocrisy - and aim to re-read its prequel, The Witches of Eastwick which was made into a pretty bad but utterly enjoyable film. That was my first sighting of Susan Sarandon and I have to confess to being rather smitten at the time.

This day in 2006 I was in Norfolk, walking over the salt marshes near Stiffkey. The ground was vivid with sea lavender and I spotted a Black Tailed Godwit, in full summer plumage, in in a creek.

This week's film was Fish Tank, a wildly acclaimed BAFTA winner which was one of my week's most bitter disappointments. It was so self-indulgently over-length at more than two hours, that I would have fallen asleep if rage hadn't kept me watching. The tired old theme, of disillusioned teenager with a slut-bitch mother living in a hellish part of Essex where no one is safe was trotted out laboriously for what seemed hours. To make matters worse, the DVD print was cropped for a 4:3 TV - why do that still do that? - and the sound was so abysmal and the actors' diction so poor, that much of the dialogue was inaudible.

Oh dear, Another moan. I must get out more.

Byeee.