“I’ve ordered a greenhouse,” my wife announced casually.
“What? We can’t afford a greenhouse. We’ve got Tom’s university bill to pay. Jessica’s rent. Ben’s holiday…”
“Not that sort of greenhouse. A plastic one. Thirty quid.”
My blood pressure returned to normal. Jane explained that we’d be able to grow melons. “Mangoes?” I muttered hopefully.
The greenhouse arrived a few days later. “When are you putting it up?” I asked.
“We’re doing at the weekend,” Jane replied. [Read more…]