Nature's Rubbish Bounty

What have I been doing in the real world for a whole week, you may be asking. Well, you probably aren’t, but I’m going to tell you anyway.

First of all I’ve *finally* finished my legendary dissertation, all 16,994 words and 52 pages of it. Which means that I've also *finally* finished my MA, after six whole years! I've been doing this degree for so long that the little silk dress my mum bought me to congratulate me on passing my third year is sadly no more. It disintegrated in the Venezuelan jungle, which was unfortunate, because it was the only item of clothing I had taken with me.

Travellers’ tip: when trekking in the Venezuelan jungle, it’s sensible to wear robust clothing, and not assume that a flimsy little silk dress will protect you from the elements, keep off killer flies, or retain structural integrity for the duration of the trek. However, I can take things like that in my stride as I am the queen of inappropriate apparel, a title to which I acceded that time I climbed Ben Nevis wearing nothing but a swimsuit and some walking boots.

But anyway, back to the dissertation! A huge thank you to all of you lovely blog-readers who made suggestions, sent me links, answered my survey and made generally encouraging noises at apposite moments. I couldn’t have done it without you, sob.

When not finishing the dissertation, I have been observing rubbish fruit. In the course of some lengthy walks among the vineyards and garrigues and limestone outcrops that surround my house here, not only have I noticed that tiny bejewelled flip-flops aren’t *quite* the thing for extensive hill-walking expeditions, but also that nature’s bounty as it exists round these parts isn’t really up to scratch. So far I have encountered:

1. An abundance of pear trees laden with dry, mealy pears

2. Vast swathes of brambles bearing tiny, tasteless blackberries

3. Masses of yellowish, desiccated rosemary

4. Acres of vines destined to produce France’s cheapest and most horrid wine

5. A surfeit of unripe figs (but I’m quite hopeful about them)

6. Loads of dusty, dried-up thyme

7. Things that looked like blueberries but turned out to be useless sloes.

What exactly am I supposed to do with that lot? Ray Mears never had it this hard, I’m sure.

Oh yes, I also had my exit from the local supermarket blocked by an eight-foot plastic gorilla, but that kind of thing happens all the time around here, so is hardly worthy of note.