I was given some plants by a friendly family at the allotments earlier in the year but the snails ate most of them (along with pretty much everything else I planted). Only one plant remained, although I wasn't sure if I had a pumpkin or a squash on my hands.
I have looked after it religiously - watering it, sometimes just looking at it and then lifting the one (very precious) fruit off the soil with a combination of cut grass and a cardboard egg tray.
It was still not ripe before we went on holiday so I have spent many moments in deepest darkest Yorkshire worrying about our first Pumpkin. Would it rot? Would it get nibbled? Or worse, stolen?
I always try to believe in the power of nature - and here it is, perfect and really fleshy. The cut section is roasting in the oven, the seeds are on the windowsill and the rest will be made into soup tomorrow.
Oh, and the wine is long gone.