Don't mess with my oranges...

So I said to Rob, let's have some orange juice. Could you go get some oranges? They're in the back yard on the ledge next to the orange tree. When the tree trimmers trimmed the tree, they left the fruit from the branches they trimmed. Rob walked outside and said words which struck terror in my heart - where'd you say those oranges are? There's nothing on the ledge.

Turns out that my gardeners took all 30 of them. Knowing that his wife had been watching and waiting since July for the oranges to be ready to be squished in her awesome Breville juicer, Rob quickly called the head of the garden company to let him know that someone better bring back those oranges pronto or else heads will roll (or something like that).

So this morning an embarrassed-looking head of garden company turned up at my door with a bag of my oranges. The gardeners had eaten 5 so I was down to 25 which equals 12 tall glasses of juice - 6 for me and 6 for Rob. I put Sparky on guard duty so there would be no further orange-napping. I'm happy.

I like to think I'm a generous person, especially this time of year. But don't mess with my oranges.