Day Five: Potatoes, Strawberries, and the Tyranny of Laundry.

 “I survived a whole week… but barely survived the stairs.”

Somehow—against all odds, sore muscles, and one near-death encounter with edging shears—I’ve made it through my first full week of work. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d last this long.

By the time I got home tonight, I collapsed on my bed like a tragic Victorian heroine awaiting her smelling salts. Rising again felt about as likely as running a marathon in clogs.

Today, Derek and I were dispatched once again to the walled garden. (I’m beginning to think Jim has adopted us as part-time recruits, despite already having four full-timers under his command. Perhaps he enjoys the extra labour. Perhaps he just enjoys Derek’s soothing, sedated presence. Hard to say.)

First mission: potatoes. Dig them up, brush them off, bag them, and into storage they go. Sounds simple—except the ground had clearly conspired against us, clinging to those spuds like a toddler refusing to leave the playground. After wrestling with earth and tuber, we were immediately promoted to strawberry duty. This meant forking compost, weeding, and finally planting rows of delicate little strawberry plants that Jim delivered with a solemn flourish, as though handing over royal infants.

Our first mission of the day.

By the end, I was so stiff and exhausted I could barely lift my fork (the eating kind, not the gardening kind) at dinner. And just when I thought I’d reached the sweet relief of food and rest, Mum hit me with the most brutal command of all:

“Where are your work clothes?”

“In my room,” I groaned.

“Well, they’re not going to wash themselves up there, are they?”

So, back up the stairs I went, dragging my weary limbs like a tragic war hero—though in this case, my battlefield was potatoes, and my medal of honour was mud.

But maybe—just maybe—my weekend won’t be entirely about rest and laundry. Old Adam has hinted at a… private tour of the orchards. And something tells me he isn’t planning to talk about pruning techniques.