Well here I am dragging up this old blog. Why you may ask, well a couple of unexpected jolts from comments made me think, and so I decided to turn inwards for a time. Paul also misses the old blog, he should come here and rest in poetry.
The truth of the matter is that a diary has to be attended daily, sometimes I can not find anything to write about, other times, as when I went into the garden this morning to feed the birds, the great rush of contentment at the beauty of the world around me.
Yesterday Rod and his wife mowed the lawns for us, and the garden sprang up from unfettered long grass to a smooth bowling green, edged with the promise of flowers to come.
Feeding the birds, I feed them on the front lawn and as I walk down the sparrows and collared doves follow, landing on the fence and flying down as I scatter the seed. The great corvine flock also come down as I depart, and Lucy also demands a scrap of bread. All that is a routine, when it is accompanied by sunny weather, the promise of a good summer is there also.
So what have I been doing as I weave, well for a start plenty of fiction on the BBC you can find, listening to the rather pompous tones of Will Self on Youtube, I wonder when we will have to pay to listen? Being famous for having opinions of course gets you into trouble, but Will Self did not hold well against the more measured intellectualism of Nial Ferguson. Read an article about Alistair Campbell as well, you know the man we would groan about, but his depression and mental confusion was a stark reminder that we can't always judge people from press reports on the media.
Yesterday I went into Pickering, hopefully to buy some slippers, but Pickering is a bit low on slippers, the market man wasn't there, he comes from Manchester. This I was told by the person who was selling odd pieces of vintage material (some of which I bought) and she was rather worried by his absence. Next I bought some crab, a scoopful to be precise, as one whole crab would have cost near £7 and I am not that keen, for a moment it reminded me of the village of Solva and the dressed crab for sale there. Such a term as dressed crab makes me giggle, frilly dress or what? Next was the wool shop, which also has an exciting display of old garden bits and bobs outside, I wanted some cottons for weaving. Sometimes you wonder how shops survive, wool shops are not exactly making money hand over fist, but it is what makes people happy working amongst the tools of their trade.
Lastly the pet shop for a bed for Lucy, not that she has used it since, she spends a certain amount of the evening scratching up all the rugs, nesting I suppose.
2 comments:
Glad you have another blog I can visit. Looking at your garden in the wet on 'the other channel' so to speak leads me to say aren't we lucky to live in such a glorious area. There is the famous saying where the lady leaned over the wall to a gardener she knew and said 'isn't God wonderful in the garden' and he replied 'you should have seen what it was like when he had it to himself!' The different greens in your photograph make it almost a sin to add any colour.
Shall look forward to visiting here. Shall now attempt to put you on my blog list.
Thanks for visiting Pat. Now I presume the gardener was talking about wilderness, something many people want to get back to..Not that we ever can of course as the world becomes more and more occupied.
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