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Banks of wild garlic

I live on the side of a hill, with common land all around me. Sounds idyllic. But at this time of year there is a definite down-side to rural life. It’s wild garlic season, and there are huge clumps of it on the banks and verges surrounding the house. It looks quite pretty, with little white flowers. But boy does it stink! The first thing that hits me as I open the front door is the distinctive pong of garlic, and it seems to be worse after a rain shower – of which there have been a lot lately. I suppose I ought to embrace the opportunity offered, and cook with it. Foraged food seems to be all the fashion at the moment. But I think that would be a step too far. It’s bad enough having to put up with the smell at home, without exuding it from my pores as well!