the heretic genetic algorithm

The garden was going great til the sun blasted it to brown twiggy dust. I mostly refuse to water things. Before they died from this straight-edge horticultural policy, the smoke bush and acanthus both flowered for the first time this year, which made me proud. The allotment has started yielding actual edible food. And the gardening business has got to the stage now where I'm actually starting to be glad when prospective clients *don't* phone, as it takes a while to fit them in. That'll hopefully change when the B-boy gets settled at nursery and I establish a regular gardening day.

Talking of nursery, they're kind of sketchy. I'm not sure if all nursery schools would piss me off by default, or whether it was a mistake plumping for the Steiner option, but they're rubbish at sorting things out. We'll see how it pans out. We've not even addressed the issue of the consent form that allows them to dose the child with homeopathic Arnica if he falls over or experiences "other shock". If you google Ben Goldacre, you'll find out why I can't be arsed with homeopathy, but in a SFW package. More importantly, experiencing the odd physical setback is part of life's rich tapestry IMO, and I'm not keen on the sprog being educated into taking medicine every time he falls on his bum. The plus points are breadmaking, stonking outdoor walks in dried up bullrush ponds, and carpentry for toddlers :)