I have finally finished my notes for a job I am doing on Tuesday.
Tomorrow, I shall reread them, try to turn them into a coherent narrative. Think of me. It needs to be done, but I can feel avoidance coming on which will only mean a late late night on Monday.
But I may also manage to nip round to the allotments where they are planning a clearing up day. Not that I have an allotment, but I am guilty by association. Octavia is coming to supper. So I need to do something about the less than pritine kitchen and other surfaces, and the muddle of papers that litter every corner of the sitting room. As I typed that I thought I should ask Celia and Charlie if they are about too.
Are you reading this Celia? The menu is lentils and coriander with brown rice. Wine will be drunk. Currently I don’t have a pudding, but it’s possible a cake may be baked. Apple, most likely.
Our own garden is beautiful. In spring the world fills with colour. Stunning, wonderful, transient colour.
I walked away from my work, went out into yesterday’s sunshine and took these:Continue reading