Back in 2010 we used to scatter George's food all over the floor. (Why? I'll have to look that up. Was it after he'd seen the therapist?*)
And one day I watched as a bird walked behind his back and started eating his food.
This is what happens when I start going through old photos.
* It was. She said he was very intelligent and needed challenges.
So Andy Burnham won the by-election, as expected and I am irrationally angry.
Irrational because there's nothing I can do about it. I have emailed my MP asking for his assurance that he will be supporting Sir Keir Starmer but I don't think he will. The last time I wrote to him about it his reply was suitably vague. And as a Labour Party member I will be casting my vote for Keir Starmer, but, for now, I can only rant.
Burnham resigns his job as Mayor of Manchester, in order to stand for election to parliament in a by-election that needn't have happened, simply to challenge the sitting Prime Minister. Why? Because he is our self-proclaimed saviour. Only he can save the country.
It's just unbelievably arrogant. I could go on for ages about this but I'd only be repeating myself.
Strangely when Jesus came to the world it was not with a fanfare; he didn't proclaim himself as the saviour. Quite the opposite in fact. He came humbly. He did what he had to do so quietly that most of the world, even many his own countrymen, didn't know about him.
And to be fair, even superheroes prefer anonymity.
I'm not the Prime Minister's biggest fan. I've not always agreed with his words or actions but he's getting the job done. And this performance by Burnham, designed to cause division, has me spitting.
It's a good job the first big 4-day closing down sale of Rough Edges is on today and I'm assisting. Get some proper stuff done actually helping people. Mutter, mutter.
I've also just messaged Sir Keir to support him.
If you want to see Count Binface in person follow this link.
I've calmed down a bit now you'll be pleased to hear.
Now, for no reason other than I was going through old photos looking for one to post to brighten the page, me singing Delilah.
It's only 10.45 in the morning and I feel as if it must be time for bed.
The house is being soft-washed today, and the men doing it said they'd arrive at the very specific time of 7.40 am. (They did too.) So I was up, showered, and dressed before I was wise.
It's not raining so I might go and do some gardening I think. I've done everything I need to do computer-wise, and Minitoo has gone for her service and MOT so we're carless for a day. So I either sit and stare aimlessly into space wondering what to do or I actually get up and do something.
There's a by-election happening today. The sitting Labour MP resigned to allow the then mayor of Manchester, Andy Burnham, to stand. Mr Burnham plans to challenge Keir Starmer for the leadership of the Labour Party.
It's all crazy and very bad. Keir Starmer is quietly getting on with things*, is very well-respected by foreign leaders, keeps calm, and works hard. By challenging the Prime Minister's leadership Burnham will throw the party into chaos, and cause untold damage regardless of whether he wins or not.
And now I'm getting cross and there's nothing I can do about the situation. So I'm hoping for a win in the by-election for Count Binface.
Rebound this morning. It's only half an hour but it is constant activity. Maybe fifteen seconds stopping to pick up/put down weights. The rest of the time you're bouncing and doing arm movements with weights.
Later to Mumbles to return library books. I said I wouldn't get any more as I have books to read. I came home with these . . .
Still thinking about what to do with the front bit of garden. Current thinking is that I rake off all stones, wash them, put down weed suppressant, and replace old stones. My finger hurts too much at the moment to do anything.
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The Sweet Sorrows, aka Sammy and Kylie Horner, appeared at Zac's last night. This is a bit of a song telling the story of Yarri and Jacky Jacky, two Wiradjuri men, who, in Australia in 1852, rescued settlers in danger of being washed away when the plains on which they had built their houses were flooded. The locals had warned the white settlers not to build there but were ignored.
So Husband looked at the front bit of garden. "It's too high," he said. "You'll have to rake off all the stones and dig out the earth."
I am just sitting here quietly, taking deep breaths. And massaging my painful swollen finger.
Exercise class this morning, then blueberry muffins made ready for Zac's tonight. We have the Sweet Sorrows with us this evening. They're an Irish/Australian couple who play folksy and traditional music. Always a good night when they come.
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A lovely walk with Daughter and Louie yesterday through Ilston valley. I've posted photos before but the height of the trees always amazes me.
First layer prepared!
I've removed as many of the roots as I can. I even had Elder Son and the grandsons working on them yesterday. Some broke off, some I've lopped off as I was never going to get to the bottom of them. Now I've spread the old stones out fairly evenly. (Although Husband will come home and say it's not level!)
Next it's weed-killer, followed by weed suppressant stuff, followed by new stones, and eventually tubs.
Do you know how long I've been working on this patch? No, nor me, but it's a long time. The fingers on my right hand swell making it difficult to get my gardening gloves off. But I am feeling proud of myself.
In other gardening news, I spotted signs of new life on my eaten dahlia, so I've added coffee grinds to the egg-shells and wool pellets. We'll see if that works.
And here are some blooms from Bring Me Sunshine (I think).
You know those cartoons when someone gets hit in the face by a rake? That never happens does it?
Yes, it does. Between the rake and the tree trunk* I was attacked from all sides this afternoon.
But I'm getting there. I was hoping to have completed the first stage - clearance and flattening - this afternoon but it was a lot harder than I anticipated. When it looked as though I were hitting a coal seam, and I was also worried that I might be undermining our wall, I decided I would have to accept that there were some roots I just would not be able to get to the root of. I had to chop them off instead.
I planned to go to flexercise this morning but ended up planting plants in planters in Zac's instead.
I believe the football world cup begins officially today. I hope many boycott it for all sorts of reasons.
I've sent a stroppy email to Sarah Raven complaining about the dahlia fiasco. Sadly my email is not as erudite as the one I composed in the middle of the night. That one contained the word retribution amongst others. They foolishly sent me a 'How did we do? survey too. "* Not very well."
I am sitting at my desk in the study and freezing to death. Slight exaggeration perhaps but jolly cold. Have a yearning to re-read Three Men in a Boat. It's probably here on a shelf somewhere.
It's been wet, wet, wet this morning. No sign yet of it drying up.
Would you like a tour of the garden? It's looking very pretty at the moment. Or it was before the rains began.
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| Complete with empty compost bag. |
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| My expensive 'daisies'. |
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| The fig tree is gradually taking over. |
