History repeats.

To be fair, the world is ending, and in the grand scheme of things, the frailties of my lack of willpower are not even a blip on the time/space continuum (should that be on or in…my whole grasp of time/space continuum grammar is a little fuzzy.)

It all started with reading the news in bed.

Let’s face it, the news is never an easy read, but now, more than ever, it can be a rough start to the day. Admittedly, that day was starting at 10.30, but my sleep patterns are a whole blog in themselves.

So, the news.

According to a report, we have already met four of the five conditions of being at war with Russia. They are messing with our infrastructure, sowing misinformation , invading our territorial waters and other stuff I can’t remember – Vulcan mind wipes?

The war with Iran shows no sign of ending soon. America is bonkers.

Jewish people are being attacked in the streets, weapomised by fuckwits unable to tell the difference between people who are Jewish and the policies of the right-wing Israeli government.

The people of Palestine, Sudan, Somalia and Yemen are still suffering in conflicts and the war in Ukraine continues.

Actual Nazi’s are openly running for election, and vile racist shite has become acceptable to share while clogging up our streets with flags.

Muslim people are also being attacked in our streets.

In other news.

Most European governments are issuing handy leaflets about what to do in a national/ global crisis. Our government is saying nowt.

Do I need to have a two-week stash of food, a wind-up radio and £100 in cash in case the internet/ infrastructure gets taken down by Russian submarines playing chicken in the Channel?

Should I go full prepper and get a second emergency chicken? (no good, now as I’m vegan) (and with no electricity, the freezer is a bust). So what? An emergency stash of tofu?

Oh yeah, and now they’re predicting a Super-El Niño!

This sounds like fun, but no! They’re predicting a 3-degree rise in Pacific sea temperatures, causing a massive shift in the Trade Winds, with storms and floods, ‘human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together…mass hysteria.’

All of this broke my heart, but none of this is what tipped me over the edge. None of this is what sent me scurrying, prepping for the coming Armageddon and giant marshmallow men.

Supermarkets are predicting a global shortage of tomatoes this summer. And not just tomatoes, but cucumbers as well.

Apparently, along with shortages of essential medications, fertiliser, oil, and the threat of global famine, the war in Iran means there is no CO2. I don’t know what that has to do with growing tomatoes, but apparently, it’s quite a lot, and as such, there will be no tomatoes!

Long-term readers will be familiar with my tomato habit. I’m not proud of it. It’s a yearly struggle.

This year, I was going cold turkey.  I wasn’t even gonna grow any bloody tomatoes (Bloody butcher – great variety, lush soft fleshy texture, great for cooking.)

I’m waiting to be rehoused to a wheelchair accessible bungalow. To be fair, I’ve been waiting nearly two years, but it could be any day. Or another 18 months.

I’m winding my garden up as I struggle with the maintenance. And anyway, when we move, the council will raze the lot to the ground.

I wasn’t gonna grow any tomatoes or long-term veg – no point spending money when not even the next tenant will reap the rewards.

No tomatoes. Or cucumber. Or courgettes. Or sweetcorn.

Just a bit of salad, all the herbs, lots in pots that could be taken with us.

But now the sky is falling in, and I have an impulse to tell the king (a very funny Chickin’ Licken joke there – you’re welcome.)

So, I bought all the tomatoes. 

Again.

Plants this time, having left it too late for seeds.

I was only going to grab one or two, a couple of each variety at most. But then my nursery had a grand selection, a few unusual varieties. And I figured two of each, for like, pollination and stuff?

I have 20 tomato plants.  That’s an even number, which felt weird. I rounded it up to 25.

There’s still just me and the Mister here, but what’s a woman to do?

I couldn’t resist a couple of courgette plants. And a few cucumbers for when the grandkids come in the summer. And French bean seeds, because I can sow them in pots. And carrots. Ooh, and some lovely bronze fennel. And potatoes I can do in sacks. Sunflower seeds, cosmos, nasturtiums, marigolds and the sweetcorn I saved from last year.

I don’t have any CO2, but I figure the Mister huffing and puffing about lugging all the plants from the car is enough for everyone.

So welcome to the end of the world, friends. These are dark days; let’s hope they don’t get much darker.

Here, let me pass you the homemade ketchup.

Passata anyone?

And if you’d like more of my love apple adventures simply search the word ‘tomato’ up the top there, and fill ya boots.

CHOPSY The Resistance Tales of a Working Class Woman is OUT NOW.

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