A friend called me yesterday.
"Hi. How are you?" (tone: chipper)
"Oh, good. I'm making chutney." (tone: resigned)
"Zucchinis?" (tone: sympathetic)
"Oh yes." (tone: sad and beaten down)
We're separated by thousands of kilometres, we haven't met up for three years, but when you're friends with a gardener, they always know what you're going through. And like all really good friends, there's no judgment of me letting those zukes grow to horrifying proportions, no "I told you sos" over the number of plants encouraged, and a confession of a basket of zukes sitting balefully in her own kitchen.
For all those who suffer under the yoke of productivity, here's a useful place to go: Jackie French might just re-invigorate your enthusiasm for the marrows. Maybe.