I woke rather earlier than I would have liked and lay awake with a vague feeling of restlessness, guilt and vaguely sulking for no reason that I could fathom. Had I forgotten to do something? Had I done something wrong? This strange nagging feeling stayed with me for much of the morning.
I made toast and peered into the Internet, and Facebook immediately presented me with the last photo I took of all four dogs in the car when we drove over to Great Chart and did a little litter picking. I had a little melt-down, and then carried on peering into the Internet. It was still there. I sent out birthday wishes to four people whose birthday it was today, and was rather disappointed to see that so few people had seemed to have done anything yesterday. One friend had been to a car rally and another to the RHS gardens at Wisley, but that was it.
I took the dogs for a very quick walk round the block, then as “er indoors TM” set off to collect “Daddy’s Little Angel TM” and “Stormageddon – Bringer of Destruction TM” I went into the garden and did a little tidying up. I flushed through the water features, ran out the hose and topped up the pond, and pulled weeds out of the shingle. That only took an hour, so with a little time on my hands (and a house full of mayhem) I went to get the pressure washer out of the shed only to find that “My Boy TM” still had it. Whilst I waited for Cheryl to deliver it, I pulled the weeds from the front garden.
Cheryl delivered the pressure washer, and I scrubbed up the stepping stones in the lawn, and the stone benches and the stone flowerpots and the patio by the shed… and in doing so reminded myself why I so rarely get the pressure washer out. Whilst it is good fun, and whilst it does scrub things up very clean, it throws a *lot* of water about and soon turns the garden into a swamp.
I lifted the drain cover, swept as much of the flood into it as I could, then had a look at the tree overhanging from the drive at the end of my garden. The tree is a plum tree and in the autumn it drops plums onto the shingle. Fat wet plums which splatter and attract wasps. I’ve done some research and found out that I can’t help myself to the plums before they fall, and once they’ve fallen I’m not supposed to do anything with them but offer them to the chap whose tree it is. But I *can* cut back overhanging branches. So I did. I’m technically supposed to offer them to the chap whose tree it is, but I chopped the branches up really small and stuck them into my green waste bin. And then decided I ached too much to continue.
Before coming inside I looked up the garden, and reminded myself about why I don’t like gardening. I took the left-hand photo above shortly after ten o’clock this morning and took the right-hand one just before four o’clock this afternoon. Can you see the difference? I can’t. I’m not being big-headed when I say I have a good back garden; it looks OK, I’m very pleased with the pond and water features; the shingled areas and statues are good, But I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time just keeping the garden as it is.
I came inside where “Stormageddon – Bringer of Destruction TM” was playing with several marble-run games and watching Raa Raa the Noisy Lion on Lube-Tube (as he calls it). It seems SBOD is uncertain as to which of Granddad or Raa Raa the Noisy Lion is cleverest. But he did tell me a joke. What do you call a goat that gets run over? A dead goat…(well, I laughed!)
“er indoors TM” took “Daddy’s Little Angel TM” and “Stormageddon – Bringer of Destruction TM” back from whence they’d come while I set the dishwasher and washing machine going, and spent an hour fighting with a geo-puzzle that had been published during the afternoon.
Over a rather good dinner we watched the penultimate episode of “Lego Masters: Australia”. It was rather good, and watching it having recorded it earlier we were able to fast-forward through all the adverts and cut a two-hour program down to less than an hour and a half.
I ache… and I think I caught the sun today.
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