"What I say is that, if a man really likes potatoes, he must be a pretty decent sort of fellow"
From 'Lunch', an essay by A. A. Milne (1882 - 1956)
Two very tiny potatoes from one of the pots outside the kitchen. We hadn't harvested them last summer and they had re-seeded themselves and grown into new plants. I was watching from a distance in the spring of last year as Uncle Harry, in his 90's and helped by my cousin Jennie, took Dad to his big old greenhouse and gave him some seed potatoes to plant. The two brothers-in-law - married to my Mum and her sister Ruth - always got on very well, and both worked in housing development and construction all their lives. It was to be the last time they ever saw each other. By early summer this year both had passed away, much loved and missed by our family.