My first meme!

Well, Breezy Break decided to bring me out of my potting shed and tagged me for my first meme. Why, thank you ma'am, and here goes:

7 Things about me and gardening

1 The senior school I went to had a farm on it, and one of our lessons was Rural Science, called Double Digging, for obvious reasons. I didn’t think I listened to any of it but, surprisingly, I remember quite a lot.

2 My mother was helping me dig my patch once, when I was wearing a fairly miniscule, low cut vest (due to the heat.) She remarked that she’d looked at my melons, and weren’t ‘they doing well, dear.’ (the melons were growing in the greenhouse!)

3 Weirdly, my favourite flower to grow is a Dahlia – don’t know why, and I don’t ‘lift’ them for the winter. It’s the only flower I would grow that doesn’t have a nice smell.

4 I love to grow lavender, and obv. love the smell

5 My favourite place to garden is with me sitting in the sun, while Mr T does all the hard work. I once persuaded Mr T to move some plants a couple of inches to the left, as it was more aesthetic – yep, and got away with it!

6 Mr T loves bright colours and I prefer more, pinks, lilacs, blues etc – so we divided one of our gardens and I had all mine in pots = no arguments

7 My best job of the year is to plant my hanging baskets – so much reward for relatively little effort.

Now, I have to tag 7 other gardeners, so here goes again:

Dusty Spider is my bessy mate and loves her garden
Ducking for Apples I don't know where Ally would stop, to be frank
Kitchen Witch though, she is into knitting lately
Apprentice takes good pictures of gardens and stuff, and writes a cracking short story
Johny B's Private Secret Diary on his hols at the mo, but lives somewhere green
Stately Moans is often up to her armpits in sh**, so might plant something as well
My so-called blog now she's left work, tho' has a sparkly new sewing machine, has time for gardening, no?

And then, I need to let each of these good people know that I have given them some homework to do, sit back, feet up to read and learn more about them.
Do please join in, though if you would like.

Add some gossip, as well, if you please.

I am being haunted ...

.... by the main characters in my novel, and what has happened to them, why and what they do about it.

Yet, I haven't written a word of it down. I keep making the excuse that I don't know where it should start - the options are Now and Then. I see the two main characters, I know which one is which, what they wear, what they smell like, etc, etc.

It's late now. But, I will definately write 1,000 words tomorrow.

I promise to myself.

And, you are my witness.

(Unless, of course, I do the meme that Breezy Break has set me (7 things about gardening & me; and tagging 7 other gardening (or not) blogs) - as a slight distraction excercise) tum, te, tum, te, tum.

Up shit creek

In the words of some bloke off the telly 'I don't belieeeeeve it!'

Last Tuesday I reached the golden age of the half century.

By Saturday's post (some 4 days later, er, for those who can't count, or who've lost count) I recieved, from our local hospital, a kit for collecting poo, so that I can send it back to them and they can test it for bowel cancer!

In other areas you need to be 60 to do this.

I suppose if they look after us right, and detect it early - we may live until at least 60, eh?

Just Landed

I awake and look around me. Yes, it's my bedroom, my bed, and my man snoring next to me. Thank fuck, we're home.

We've just been to another planet for the weekend. A squeezy plane took us from normality, where bins are emptied, loos are clean and have paper in them, those nice police officers ensure everyone's car is checked for, well, you know. Those nice orange-clad people who staff the check-in desks ask inane questions; and yet more nice people (in stiffer uniforms) operate the boarder control, taking the opportunity to laugh at holes in your socks, and you having to hold up your belt-less trousers, and then have a free feel-up of you.

We've just been to a place where everything is filthy, flashy and fast.

But, this isn't the worst of it, dear reader. O, no!

We've just been darn sarf - to middle Hingerland. More yet, to a Family Wedding, groan you may, or titter you yet. And, even more, zoomer-ish, to a family wedding, in England with the fucking footballers wives!

Everyone has to drive a sleek, black car - bmw, merc etc. The wives have to be got up like make-up was slapped on with a catapult; with tallons wot mustn't be broke! screech!

There was a screech! if they lost their spectacles, or god forbid, their 'phone, which is constantly on the go wiv texts from 'me mate, yeah?' and rattled with designer dangly things.

Everything is in a panic. Now, I know weddings are stressful, expensive and the scene-setting for not letting the side down. Representing the family's wealth and status.

But, this is their Normal Lives, where every designer label (don't ask me, I haven't a clue) has to be Seen to be seen. Everyone Has to Have a Diamond. Even if they are only 8 years old, for gawd's sake, as a rite of passage into the World of Bling. I can feel myself getting all screechy! as I remember all this.

The designer holiday has to be taken. Even before the needs of the children can be met. 'A?' was the reply to a carefully worded query as to Why the Fuck has the holiday to be taken before, blah, blah, etc.

Heads seem to be filled with the latest must-haves of Things, Places etc. and we simply didn't fit in.

I must now be an official country-ophile. Much as I tried, through gritted teeth, I simply could not get them.

Race for Life, Walked

Yep, done it! (That's me with the purple shower-proof jacket around my waist - that does not keep out the heavy rain, I found.)

By gum, I am v. fat, v. unfit and v. untrained, but managed to complete the Race for Life in Perth on Sunday.

Though I had been warned that it would be an emotional day, I found myself overcome with tears. This was at the beginning as we pushed off; during the walk, while looking at others' back labels; and then at the end when we finally hobbled through the finishing arc.

What a wonderful outing it was. Nanny's best Girl and Lolly Dolly-pop came too and helped, assisted by Mr T and the girls' parents.

I can't thank enough the people who sponsored me - what a wave of good feeling and support it has been.

And, I shall definitely be doing it again next year. And, of course, I shall be thinner and fitter. Like every (next) year.

A Smile - a Real One!

Apologies. It's a nanny thing.

I got a real smile today from Ellie! They say she's too young at two weeks and one day old but, when I greeted her with a 'hello you' she looked at me and her eyes lit up, then she grinned at me!

Apologies again, but I am in love!

My cup runeth over ...

... all because I have had the best nights' sleep in a year.

The story...

Last year we bought a new bed. All spiffing it was. Brown leather headboard and footboard. Quite the most modern thing we had had in, well, years. Sumptuous, with new leafy green bedding to go on it and everything.

Mr T doesn't like the bedding at all. But, I've bought it, and love it, so it gets used in rotation with our other stuff.

We have really treated ourselves to a goose down duvet, that is cool in the summer and warm in the winter. With only the small addition of my dressing gown over me, in the really, deep mid-winter.

However.

It was bloody uncomfortable, nay painful. To the point of near to tears each morning. So, not enough sleep, let alone quality sleep was making me tired and more than a tad grumpy.

We'd done all sorts, with the most recent trial of putting boards over the slats - a thin one for me and thicker one for Mr T. To no avail.

Then, yesterday I happened to pinch his half of the bed when he was on morning cuppa duty and, Bingo! Comfort.

So, yesterday Mr T and my bro, Wicker man went a hunting at the wood place and brought home the kill of a lovely, thick board to put over the whole of the slats.

I slept. I slept until 9.15! This is well better than the 4.30 - 6.30 I've been getting up in the morning over the last few months - too bloody painful to enjoy laying in.

Ah, well. Bliss.