This afternoon Fester and I were out in the garden having a
look at the crops in our raised beds.
“There’s a nettle coming up in the ffa*” I said “I’ll have
to get my gardening gloves on and deal with that.”
“No” says my environmental scientist husband with three
degrees “it’s one of those dead nettles.
Look” as he pinched a leaf between his thumb and forefinger.
A few minutes later, when I had stopped laughing, he said “I
sometimes worry about your reaction to my pain.”
*Welsh for broad beans
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