Confessions of a greedy bean eater

So the weekend started well, with plenty of sun and a visit from the very charming Richard Swann, Demeter man and editor of bi-annual biodynamic journal Star and Furrow , talking about our plans and planting. Ended less well, with stupid, impatient, greedy me being crippled with cramps (of which, more later). The best bit of the weekend, though, was working again with Howard. He has been a bit distracted of late with the proper pressing business of finding a new home for him and his family. Have missed his quiet company, and now we may have sorted our winter plans, at least for now. Current thinking is that we will work a third of the plot (have already roped it off) and "rest" the rest. Though suspect it might end up more half-and-half, if only because the two-thirds we are planning to manure and green compost has chard, bulls blood and borlotti growing well on it now. Not to mention four rows of radishes, beet and salad leaves I sowed two weeks ago. Or that we are always slaves to mission-creep. On Sunday I carted away unwelcome bits of branch from Mary's plot left over from when the council cut up and removed most of the fallen tree. But bad news at one of the compost heaps, where someone's been dumping blighted tomato plants and fruit. I dug out the stuff I could see and investigated the other plots. Sure enough, there are signs of blight scattered over the site. I left our nearly ripe toms there for now, but will ask Howard to keep a close eye this week. Anway, to the borlotti. Always impatient, I cooked the first beans to go with lamb for Sunday supper. Alarm bells should have run when they took so long to cook I ended up eating them after "afters". But being me, I couldn't wait to tuck in – and very delicious and creamy they were. At least, until only 2.30am when I was woken, stricken by searing, piercing stomach pain like wild dogs were ripping me apart. I eventually dragged myself from the death bed to rock around on the bathroom floor like someone giving birth to something really big (OK, perhaps here I've over-reached, but trust me it really hurt). Carried on whimpering and cramping through the night until I knocked myself out around 5am from exhaustion and industrial quantities of chamomile. So a lesson to other novice borlotti beans growers: if you are unsure whether your homegrown beans are "fresh" or "dried", the best idea's to soak them first... Now, enough us, any news from your garden (or life)?