For those of you who suffer from alliumphobia, look away now, as I’m about to talk about a member of the Lily family....Garlic!

     Over 5,000 years ago the Egyptian slaves downed tools when their daily ration of garlic was stopped. This was probably the first ever labour strike. They used it in cooking and for medicinal purposes. And today, nothing has changed. Garlic (or stinking rose as some call it) is still grown and used all over the globe.

      So what has garlic got that makes it so desirable? Well I do know that it contains polysulphide allicin, ajoene and adenosine and these ingredients are the key to the bulbs health benefits.

      If you rub garlic oil directly onto psoriasis (a skin condition) it will possibly bring relief. Also, by rubbing raw garlic onto athlete’s foot this will speed up the healing process.  Or, try placing your feet into a bowl of garlic water. This might or might not work but it is well worth a try. And should you find yourself with a splinter, place a slice of garlic over it then cover with a plaster or bandage to help draw out the offending object!

       For those of you that keep hens, place a clove of garlic into their drinking water to keep them healthy.

      As for myself, I use garlic in cooking and for medicinal purposes. Here is one of my favourite recipes......

Garlic Potatoes

• 500ml double cream (I am not a lover of cream but add this when I have guests)
• 500ml milk
• 3 garlic cloves
• 8 large potatoes
• 100g cheese (optional)

Heat oven to 190C/170C fan/gas 5. Tip the cream, milk and garlic into a large saucepan and bring to a simmer. Slice the potatoes very finely, about 3-4mm, add them to the cream and simmer for 3 mins until just cooked. Gently stir to separate the potato and stop it sinking and catching on the bottom of the pan.

Remove the potatoes and place in a wide shallow ovenproof dish so that they are about 5cm in depth. Pour over the garlic infused cream (discarding the garlic) – just enough to seep through the layers and leave a little moisture on the surface. Scatter over the cheese, if using, then bake for 30 mins until the potatoes are soft and browned – increase the heat for 5 mins if not brown enough.

Driving through the long and winding country lanes of Wales early today, reminded me of my school rambles.

     The sudden burst of flowers, with colours to send an artist running for his brushes, vied for the suns attention and its warmth. 

      Wild garlic and bluebells mixed in with forget me nots and stinky bobs (herb Robert) and early honeysuckle, to mention just a few. A heady mix of aromas rushed through my camper window. I slowed the pace right down, wanting the moment to last; wanting to remember the images of my childhood once again.

       My father called the hedges mini nature reserves, which they are, in their own right. This vibrant ecosystem is home to insects, field mice, butterflies and birds. Slowworms hide in the tall grass and hedgehogs hibernate there when there is nowhere else to go.

       Birds nest in the brambles, embroidered around the dead wood which is home to invertebrates and food for the bats. The great crested newts scurry through the stems upon which you will find the stag beetle and the scorpion fly.  

       As a child I imagined fairies living in the granny’s bonnets and could never understand how some people say they resemble an eagle’s claw. And the bees that buzz up inside them, a perfect setting for a child’s imagination. It’s no wonder I grew up the way I did.

       And let us not forget the road on which I travelled, the same road that was once a dirt track winding its way between these hedgerows and used by our ancestors down through the years.

       Oh if only hedges could talk! But then again they don’t need too; it is all there for everyone to see, hear, feel, taste, and touch. It is a world within a world, a commune of creatures and plants all depending on this natural habitat in order to survive. Long live the hedges!

Shadow Tail lived in a tree overlooking the home for waifs and strays. His bright and beady eyes never missed a trick and quite often, he would race down the tree, head first, and steal food from the hens.

     ‘Why do you steal our food?’ said a hen to Shadow Tail. ‘Aren’t squirrels supposed to be herbivorous and climb trees for nuts?’

      ‘Why don’t you mind your own business?’ replied Shadow Tail, gobbling up the hen food before anyone else had a chance to get some. ‘Anyway, why do you live here when you could be free like me?’

      ‘But we are free,’ said the hen, ‘and safe from the mouth of the fox!’

      ‘Suit yourself!’ said Shadow Tail as he scarpered back up the tree where he lived.  

      ‘And don’t come back!’ the hen shouted after him.

      But the squirrel kept going back and stealing the food. And every time, he laughed at the hens for staying at the home for waifs and strays.

      ‘Be free like me!’ he would shout as he ran like a wild thing back up his tree.

      Then one day, something happened that changed the squirrel’s life forever.

       The lady who cared for the hens was walking down the road when she saw a car coming a bit too fast. Shadow Tail did not see the car as he ran in front of it. This is why most squirrels die within the first year of their life. Thankfully, the lady ran to where Shadow Tail lay, bloody and cold on the road.

        ‘Thank heavens you’re alive,’ she said softly and took off her coat and wrapped it around the squirrel. ‘You’re coming home with me where we can take good care of you and make you well again.’

        And so it was, Shadow Tail went to live at the home for waifs and strays until he was completely recovered.

        ‘It is almost time for you to leave,’ said the hen. ‘I bet you’ll be glad to go!’  

         Shadow Tail was very quiet. He had come to love the home for waifs and strays and even enjoyed the hens company. They made him laugh with their pecking order. That would never do for him, he thought, he didn’t want to be in any order. He, Shadow Tail Squirrel was born to be free.

         ‘Yes!’ replied Shadow Tail. ‘Yes, I will be glad to go!’

         ‘That’s a shame,’ said the hen. ‘I was hoping you would stick around.’

         ‘Why?’ said Shadow Tail, trying hard not to smile.

         ‘Because we like you,’ said the hen. ‘We all like you.’

         And so it was, Shadow Tail told the truth and said he didn’t want to live on his own all the time but he did like his own space up the tree.

         ‘If it’s ok with you,’ he said to the hen, ‘I will visit you every day but still keep my home in the tree.’ And that is what he did!

Thanks to Anna, the 7^th Duchess of Bedford, I often enjoy ‘afternoon tea’ at our home for waifs and strays with friends and family.

     You see, in the early 19^th century, Anna often complained of having a sort of ‘sinking feeling’ around late afternoon. In those days, people usually ate just two main meals a day, breakfast and dinner. Before she completely sunk, Anna had a pot of tea and a snack, in mid afternoon.

     So in the years that followed, the consumption of tea evolved dramatically and ‘at half past three, everything stops for tea!’ became well known around the world. White tea, black tea, green tea and oolong tea are just four different types of tea. It is all in the processing!     

      But sadly, afternoon tea seemed to disappear, but not in the home where I grew up. Living with my grandmother (afternoon tea or light tea as she called it) was a daily occurrence. I would enjoy a small sandwich and an equally small cake, whilst waiting for my father to join us for our evening meal.  

       Today, people tend to have afternoon tea as a special treat, but it is simple enough to do it yourself, on your own kitchen table.  All you need are some neatly cut sandwiches, scones, clotted cream and jam. A few small cakes can be added if you fancy them. A pot of tea and small cups and saucers (can be picked up cheaply from most charity shops) do add to the occasion. As does a tablecloth and a bowl of in-season fruit.

       The last afternoon tea, held at our home, was made all the more delightful, when someone kindly brought a bunch of ‘wild scented flowers and herbs’ from their garden. When putting them into a vase of fresh water, I noticed rosemary, bay, mint, blackberry and delightful pink roses. This was a wonderful touch to a table filled with simple things.

        I have added below, a recipe for scones. You can adjust this by adding cheese instead of sugar, or keeping the scones plain by leaving out  the dried fruit.

• 225g/2 cups self raising flour
• 55g/ 2 oz cold butter
• 1 level tsp baking powder
• ½ tsp salt
• 150 ml /¼ pint milk
• 1 egg beaten with a little milk
• Heat the oven to 205°C/400°F/Gas 6
• Grease and flour a heavy baking sheet.
• Sieve the flour into a roomy baking bowl then add the butter, baking powder and salt. Quickly rub the butter into the flour until the mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs.
• Make a well in the center and using a dinner knife, stir in enough milk to make a soft, pliable dough.
• Turn the mixture on to a floured board and knead very lightly until just smooth then lightly roll out to 2 cm / 3/4" thick.
• Cut rounds with a 7.5 cm / 3" cutter or cut into triangles with a sharp knife.
• Place on the baking tray and brush with the beaten egg and milk mixture. Bake near the top of the hot oven for 15 minutes or until golden brown and well risen.
• Cool on a wire rack before eating.

Serve with butter, or lashings of jam and clotted cream

After a long winters slumber, Mr Triturus-Newt and many of his amphibian friends were preparing for their annual vacation to the pond for waifs and strays. Mr Triturus-Newt (his scientific name of course) was hoping to find a wife at the courtship dance.

       The amphibian trail arrived at the pond just as the sun was setting.  Mr Triturus-Newt was quickly disappointed by the hoards of amphibians that had gathered at the 5* holiday resort. The place had gone mad, he thought sullenly. He didn’t stand a chance of finding a wife with so much competition.

        They were greeted by the pompous water boatmen that rowed through the water with their noses in the air. ‘Horrid little creatures,’ Mr Triturus-Newt moaned. ‘They think they own the place!’

         A diving beetle zoomed into the pond, right in front of Mr Triturus-Newt and almost sank him to the ground. He spluttered and coughed and would have choked had it not been for a beautiful young newt that pushed him up to the surface.

        ‘Thank you,’ he said breathlessly, ‘you saved my life!’

        ‘I had no choice,’ replied the young Newt, ‘you fell on my tail!’ And with that she scarpered.

        Poor My Triturus-Newt, what was supposed to be a wonderful holiday, was turning out to be his worst nightmare.

        He made his way slowly around the pond trying hard to avoid the party goers, though he knew if he wanted to find a wife, then he had to join in.

        The dancing began and so did the whipping, waving and fanning of tails. Mr Triturus-Newt just shook his head in disgust. No way was he going to do that. He would go without a wife if that was the case. But then something happened that made him change his mind.

          As Mr Triturus-Newt was about to go to bed, he saw a beastly dragonfly larvae, zoning in on the very newt that saved his life. ‘Nasty thing,’ he thought and acted very quickly. He saved the beautiful young newt from being attacked.

          ‘You saved my life,’ she said coyly.

          ‘Let’s dance!’ said a very happy Mr Triturus-Newt.