Spontaneous steak

Three days later I finally got my spontaneous steak. 

Inevitably it was slightly disappointing but the chips were nice and it was just good to be cooked for.

While we were out enjoying ourselves a friend dropped off two rubbish bags full of bread. She collects from M&S for a foodbank but has so much bread she doesn't have space for it. So I took it to Zac's today, used some to make pizza slices and the rest was given away to anyone who wanted a loaf.

They went down well.

Coming home today I noticed some double lilies in the garden. They must have been there before but I don't think I've spotted them.

It's the Wales Air Show this weekend. It happens over Swansea Bay and there are always road closures but this year the closures were put in place at noon today and last until noon on Monday. Of course this results in traffic being diverted and Swansea becoming one big traffic jam. I shall try not to go anywhere to the east of us until after Monday!

All go today

This morning: gardening. I decided to try and clear a bit of the front garden that is getting overgrown with brambles and things. But first I had to take a photo of this:

This afternoon I took Toby for a walk in the shade of the woods. It was a bit longer than I intended because I let Toby lead the way, which meant taking the path much less travelled and very over-grown with ferns, which made me worry about ticks. For some reason I associate ticks and ferns.

It was also longer because I missed the turning on the way back and ended up having to go all the way back to the top of the mountain (okay, hill but it felt like a mountain) instead of following the mid-way path across. At least it gave me time to think and come up with an idea for, and start composing my next article for Bay.

But tonight we are definitely going to be spontaneous and go to the steak house.

Oh yes, and I read an article yesterday with a different viewpoint on rejections. It goes something like this: set yourself a target of 100 rejections in a year because it means you will keep submitting and some are almost bound to succeed. Also focuses your mind differently, to think of a rejection as another one towards your goal. 

Hm, maybe.

Plus

Here's my latest article for Bay magazine.

Unless we change our minds I think we're going to be spontaneous this evening and go out for steak.

Almost finally, I was also disappointed in Wild Mind from Natalie Goldberg. I loved her Writing Down the Bones but Wild Mind was a Zen too far for me.

As our rhubarb is rapidly taking over the garden I made some rhubarb and custard muffins for Zac's yesterday. 

For complicated reasons - testing a theory - I'm trying to avoid gluten at the moment so I had to settle for rhubarb and custard.

And just getting in before the end of Pride month.

Pests and dead bodies

Thank you all for your encouraging comments re my book. We'll see.

Anyway this morning I would normally have been cooking in Zac's but as things stand I may never cook again, there or anywhere.

I did a Food Hygiene course (online) this morning. We, that is Zac's, have been notified that we are due for a visit from the Hygiene Inspector for the first time since the beginning of the century so we're doing all we can to make it as painless as possible.

I passed the test (96% since you asked) and I had to chuckle over a couple of things For instance, one sign that you have a pest infestation is a dead body. It doesn't specify whose.

And secondly, the recommended temperature to which foods have to be reheated is 75 - unless you're in Scotland when it's 82. I assume that's because Scotland is further north and we all know that water boils at a higher temperature at the seaside. Or something like that.

Their description of the perfect kitchen layout made me laugh out loud as you'll understand if you remember the photo I posted of Zac's kitchen. Cat and swinging come to mind.

All excellent advice/law of course but rather terrifying. How nobody has died from my cooking/cooling/storing/reheating processes I will never know.

Squatting on my laurels

With the enthusiasm that comes from a good day I've submitted a novel to a publisher. I should really have rested on my laurels having been to exercise class, made rhubarb and custard muffins and done the ironing, but it's gone now.

My last submission, according to my records - which may or may not be accurate - was in 2022. Two subs then, neither received a reply.

The very first time I submitted a novel to an agent I fully expected a speedy "Yes!" response. Today, I shall forget about it and think of nicer things.

Having depressed myself I shall go and read for a bit before dinner.

Incidentally exercise class this morning was v. hard. It works on the forty second exercise followed by twenty second rest rule. As it takes me about fifteen seconds to get up off the floor, by the time I've moved on to the next stage in the circuit it's time to work again. And forty seconds might not seem very long but, believe me, when you're doing a wall squat it's endless.

In which we are almost spontaneous

Come next year when the climbing roses have grown and are in bloom this corner will be glorious.

 

I've spent the afternoon clearing the mess associated with Husband's outdoor work table - that's now, at my behest, behind the greenhouse instead of in front of the arbour - so this will henceforth be known as the Quiet Aromatic Corner. That the new stones I bought match neither the paving slabs nor the old stones (my fault) is, of course, a deliberate quirk to make the area more interesting. As is the wonky paving (Husband's fault).

Yes, next year it will be wonderful. If we can stop the rhubarb's march to inhabit the earth.

When I came in to shower I was distracted by the advertising bumph pushed through our letterbox. I was on the point of binning it when I noticed a 30% off offer from our local steakhouse.

As I'm due to do a Sainsburys order I'd planned baked beans on toast for dinner but this seemed like too good a deal to ignore. I asked Husband, "How do you fancy going for steak and chips tonight?"

He shrugged. "I'm not bothered. I'm happy with beans on toast. But if you want to go we can."

I spent the next fifteen minutes dithering over whether to be spontaneous and decided I couldn't be bothered. Husband's indifference is stifling my spontaneity!

Cultural disappointment

Which is a grand title for what it is. 

Last night we watched Best Sellers starring Michael Caine. He played a grumpy, reclusive author who, because of a long-forgotten contract clause, is forced to do a book tour. It was billed as a comic drama but the only funny bit was that Caine was celebrated because his catchphrase became "Bullshite", which soon lost any comedic value.

Husband suggested it because he thought I would enjoy it but we both found it  mostly depressing and disappointing.

And I've just returned two library books. One was from Simon Brett's Decluttering series, Waste of a Life. In several places he repeated himself feeding us facts that we already knew, and it wasn't up to his standards. I love Brett's work, his novels and his radio sitcoms, but feel he may be trying too hard now.

The other was the Million Copy International Best Seller, Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. A fiction it reads like a case study complete with footnotes and academic references. It deals with familiar themes of gender discrimination, sexism and patriarchy. What made it unusual was that it was set in Korea and maybe that's why it was a best seller.

I've just been looking at some reviews that all say how important and thought-provoking it is so maybe I missed the point. It was the referring to academic papers in the middle of the text that put me off. A couple of times I checked that it was indeed a work of fiction. Don't let me put you off. It's probably just me being thick.

On the plus side the hernia I had yesterday has gone today. 

A sleepy Sunday

GrandSon3 came for a sleepover last night. After beating me at every game (Go Fish, Dinosaur Chase) we played he slept well and left early this morning for his football club's end of season's presentation. I tried to explain gently to him that coach's sons aren't allowed to win even when they should. A difficult and unfair lesson.

After dropping him off I picked up GrandDaughter2 who'd asked me to take her to see The Little Mermaid (new version). I think Daughter has sussed it out. If the children want to do something and she doesn't she tells them to ask Granny!

Eating sweets and watching a film in the middle of the morning threw me a bit for the rest of the day. Have been lying in the intermittent sunshine snoozing ever since.

Film was fine but overly long, even for an adult, but some beautiful underwater sequences and imaginings. I am so impressed by the creativity of some.

Then it got better

The sun came out and we celebrated our 45th wedding anniversary in Verdi's with family. And a paddle in the sea.

Unusually we arrived at Verdi's first and equally unusually there were plenty of tables. I grabbed two tables and gathered ten chairs around. I was about to sit down when a man and woman came hurrying up and the woman shouted, "That's our table!"

"Er, no, it's mine," I said indicating the chairs I'd arranged. 

"No, it's ours," the man insisted. "I left my glasses case on the table."

We all looked down at the table - which was empty.

"Staff must have moved them!" the woman said.

She had quite an aggressive manner so I gave up and took a table to the side instead. 

I hate any sort of conflict however minor, particularly when I feel wronged - they could just as easily have taken an alternative table - but my mood lifted when the family arrived. 

It happened that I was on a table with four children while all the grown-ups sat together. That was fine by me as I got to eat half of GrandDaughter2's ice cream as well as mine - toffee chip crunch since you're asking. Plus most of the grown-ups had boring cake and coffee instead of ice cream.

It's raining!

Normally that wouldn't even be worthy of a mention but it's been dry and sunny for so long that the rain deserves its own comment, even a title.

I don't know if that's contributing to my feeling of bleurghiness. The fear that this may mark the end of the best of our summer. It's traditional for it to be sunny in June; it always was at exam time. Followed by a more changeable and wet July and August for the holidays.

Yesterday was heavy. Zac's chef and I agreed, "We don't care any more. Let's just stop everything and walk out. Because we don't care!"

We didn't obviously. Instead we served up over seventy hot meals and scrubbed all the pots afterwards, but it was ridiculously clammy in the tiny kitchen. The air weighed down on us.

And now it's raining. So I'm thinking I could do some long-awaited cleaning. But then I think better of that idea and decide to do a jigsaw. I don't have to think when I'm doing a jigsaw except about the pieces. Cleaning gives me too much time to depress myself.

"I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in to stop my mind from wandering where it will go, oh, where it will go."

Having just checked the lyrics I see it's, "rain gets in and stops my mind from wandering." So really the opposite of what I mean. But let's have the song anyway.

The bees knees

You will have to click on this photo and enlarge it to spot the bee and more precisely the little yellow sac. It's round about the centre.

I had to ask Younger Son, the apiarist, if it was a shopping bag of sorts. It is! there's one on each side. 

Bees have little pockets on their knees where they store pollen when out foraging. He said, "When they are collecting pollen, it gets stuck to their fur because they become positively charged when flying (attracting pollen which is negative). Then they roll it up and put in their pockets to carry."

He went on to say, "That's where the term 'bees knees' comes from." A quick google confirmed that as one possible explanation, because the sacs of pollen are concentrated goodness.

I am learning so much today.

Blobs on the beach

Swam in Pobbles with Daughter and Louie this morning. Glorious morning but cold sea. As I went in I remembered the words I'd read somewhere recently from a woman who'd gone cold water swimming. She spoke of the shock followed by, "exhilaration, and a feeling of being truly alive."

I tried to channel these emotions. "Oh, oh, oah, oh-oh-oh, oh my hands are cold." Not quite as poetic but true. Once I was in it was lovely though.

There were several of these slightly ridged-looking clear blobs of jelly on the beach. They were about the size of a finger-nail.

I've googled it and this is what I found out:

They are called pleurobrachia pileus, a species of comb jelly, commonly known as a "sea gooseberry". 

Sea gooseberries are often around 2.5cm in length and have a pair of tentacles that are usually up to twenty times the length of their body and are used to catch prey.

They feed on plankton and when it's sunny you get a lot of plankton so sea gooseberries reproduce to make the most of the food that's there. 

I'm glad I didn't know about their tentacles when I poked one.

There's something about that feeding/reproducing logic that bothers me, that doesn't seem quite right, but I can't put my finger on it. I shall have to think.
 

More stupid people

I knew there was a reason I mentioned church on Sunday! There was a couple there and they were celebrating their 76th anniversary!

They were both in their late nineties and had a live-in carer but what an achievement.

And in response to PipeTobacco's question, no, I'm no closer to getting a dog. Husband remains adamant. A friend suggested I play the mental health card. "A dog would be very good for my mental health." I tried it to no avail.

I have to content myself with watching golden retriever Facebook clips, and occasionally walking the grand-dogs. But it's not the same.

I mention this because I just had a phone call. Tempted though I was to ignore it I felt I should answer. Dragging out the conversation the caller asked if I had taken my dog to the beach recently. I pointed out I'd lost my dog last year - something he should have known if he'd been paying attention - and he proceeded to tell me why dogs weren't a good idea anyway. Mutter, mutter.

Wastrels all

Our Prime Minister, Rishi Sunak, along with 224 other Conservative MPs did not vote in parliament yesterday on the findings of the Privileges Committee. That's the one that came to the conclusion that Boris Johnson knowingly misled parliament about illegal goings on during lockdown.

When he became PM Sunak stood outside No. 10 Downing Street and made a commitment to "integrity, professionalism and accountability."

Pathetic the whole lot of them.

In better news I've had a good day today. I made fish pie ready for dinner and banana bread ready for Zac's tonight. I dug a flower bed and did some more clearing. I changed the bed (our sleep-in bed that is) and planned what shrubs I need that will grow in the shade, and went to the garden centre. 

Now I think it must be time to sit in the sun and read. 

I do like days that are free of commitments. I should plan to have more of them.

Ladies, ladies

Inspired by a post on Debra's blog I checked back over old photos to find this:

In the late eighteenth century two cousins, Jane and Mary Parminter, had this sixteen-sided home built. Named A La Ronde their intention was to create a home and to fill it with mementoes and treasures from their travels around Europe. 

Mary lived there until her death in 1849 - Jane died in 1811 - and left an extraordinary will. It had two principal aims: to ensure that A La Ronde, the house and its contents were kept intact; and to allow only unmarried kinswomen to inherit.

When Daughter lived in Devon we took the opportunity to visit some of the many National Trust properties nearby and this was one of them.

When I was reminded of this house I had forgotten that the two women were cousins. I should explain that Debra's blog mentions the unwillingness of historians to accept that unrelated women choosing to live together could be anything but platonic friends.

Which brings us nicely to the Ladies of Llangollen, Sarah Ponsonby and Lady Eleanor Butler. 

In 1778, when Sarah was 23 and Eleanor 39, the two women secretly fled together, crossing the Irish Sea to set up home in North Wales, leaving their privileged lives behind them. That said, Plas Newydd, the house in which they lived was pretty grand and notable guests included the Duke of Wellington and William Wordsworth.

Anne Lister was another visitor. Fans of Gentleman Jack will know who she was. Apparently she tried hard to discover the truth of the relationship. From the British Museum website:

Anne tried to discreetly establish whether Sarah Ponsonby and Eleanor Butler were more than friends. She asked  'if they were classical' to which Sarah Ponsonby replied, 'No… Thank God from Latin & Greek I am free.' 

We have not visited Plas Newydd yet but it is on my wish list.

A great BIG adventure

On Saturday morning I went to . . . Sainsburys to do my first big shop in person since lockdown!

I didn't enjoy it. I'm going back to Click and Collect.

What else? Went to McDonalds Drive Through with GrandDaughter1 and had to yell at boy taking the order.

"What drink do you want with the meal?"

"I don't want a meal; I don't want a drink."

"Yeah, what drink do you want?"

"I don't want a drink!"

Only it took longer than that. The thought occurs to me that buying a meal might work out cheaper even if we don't want a drink. (We go to Costa first to get our drinks.) Shall check now. Hang on . . . that's weird. Can't check because they don't show prices but pretty sure only option is a child's meal which isn't what we want. (Not big enough.)

Anyway, I digress. Home for an impromptu barbecue. Pool temperature nearly 27 degrees. Balmy - if water can be balmy. Or possibly barmy. 

Sunday, Father's Day, went to church in person. Obviously a Weekend for Doing Stuff In Person. Then dinner at Elder Son's. Tomahawk steak, broccoli puree, roast Mediterranean vegetables, fondant potatoes, and mushroom sauce. Followed by jam and cream sponge made by GrandSon3. All very delicious.

Wore my weights again in class this morning. It seemed they had already worked some sort of magic and my wrists had lost weight as they were much looser today. The one place I don't need to lose to weight. At home I realised it was because I had them on the wrong wrists. No, it doesn't make sense to me either.

Driving home past the playing fields there was an elderly Labrador being walked. I threw a wobbly and got quite emotional remembering George, especially in his later years. I don't know where that came from as I'm very rarely so visibly upset.

The roses are blossoming now and the sweet peas are just coming into flower too.

And we have a rogue poppy next to the shed.

I believe I could fly

I used to be able to fly. 

Bear with me, the heat's not driven me crazy. I honestly believe in my soul that I used to be able to fly. I'm not sure when I stopped or why. But I sincerely believe that I could fly. 

Not soaring up in the sky type flying, nothing as silly as that, but the running and then leaving the ground and staying in the air for far longer than would be normal type flying.

It's not the sort of flying I tried to do when I was a child. Then I had a little slide in the garden and I would make paper wings to tie to my arms and jump off my slide. That never worked. No, this was effortless, thoughtless, perfectly natural flying.

At some point I stopped and forgot about it but then one day I remembered - and that feeling came to me so insistently I could feel the sensation all over again. But now I couldn't fly.

Was it forgetting how to? Or learning that it's not possible? But, no, it wasn't that long ago I'm sure. 

I realise you might think this is weird or I'm making it up. And I wouldn't have written about this if it hadn't been for a writing prompt that encouraged me to dig deeper. It is a very strange conviction to have I agree. 

Is there anything in your life that seems so real that you're convinced it happened even against the odds? When you know it's impossible?

Medal triumph

I love this salvia plant. I planted it last year and it's flourishing so I've decided to buy some more to go along the front of the bed I am going to clear.

It's a bit wild and overgrown looking at the moment. The grassy things in the middle did have some yellow flowers but not enough to warrant keeping them. So when it's a bit cooler I'll be out there with my trowel.

Meanwhile this afternoon I went to sports day at the school. I missed GrandDaughter2's but was there for GrandSon2. GrandSon3 should have been there but he's still laid up at home with his swollen knee.

 

Both GrandSon2 and GrandDaughter2 won medals in their sprint races. Then in the relay GrandSon2 was the final runner for Tîm Coch (Red Team). He and another boy began to run together but GrandSon2 pulled away. The other boy looked as if he was going to catch up but GrandSon2 finally made it triumphantly past the finish line in first place. He put everything into it, bless him.

Granny might have got a bit carried away screaming and then doing a fist pump in the air.

I was especially delighted for him because he's spent a lot of the last eighteen months or so battling Long Covid.

3 more Talks

Yesterday evening I went to 3 Talks again, the evening of food, chat and three ten minute sessions in which people talk about their passions or whatever they want really.

Black bean tacos was on the menu as were chocolate brownie and ice cream so I was happy before the talks even began!

The first talk was about sustainable food and would have been interesting had it not been a forty-minute academic lecture crammed into fifteen minutes. By the time she got to doughnuts - not the greasy sugary delights but models of sustainable development - I was well and truly and glazed over.

Next talk was by a drama therapist who used the story-telling technique of drama therapy to relate her own story - a childhood of being called thick and trying and failing to live up to her parents' standards. Asked if she had made peace with herself now her answer was "sort of."

The next speaker when asked the same question said, "No, it's a lifelong work." He is a gay man who'd been pushed into conversion therapy when a teenager by his church who considered homosexuality a sin. Therapy didn't work. (Surprise.) He trained as a nurse and went to work in refugee camps in Cambodia where he met and married a feisty wonderful woman, and they had three children.  

His wife knew he was gay and though he loved her more than any other woman, as much as he could love a women, he always felt he'd not been able to give himself fully to her. Her sudden death after twenty-three years of marriage left him devastated.

Presenting Good Touch, Bad Touch
at a conference

When he found himself in a relationship with another woman he had to ask the question if this was what he wanted. He had to be honest and 'came out'. He's in Linden Church now and is thankful to be part of an inclusive and accepting community. 

I've known him for a long time and was expecting him to talk about his research into the sexual exploitation of men and boys. (He and his wife set up The Message Parlour in Phnom Penh's red light district to befriend those working there.) So I was surprised when he began his talk, "I'm a gay man."

I knew he was gay but hadn't known the long history behind it. He was wonderfully honest and very funny. He also created a flipbook to be used with children called Good Touch Bad Touch. It's now been translated into many languages and is used in lots of countries.

He was the one who explained to me the error in many cases of using the good old Christian phrase, "Love the sinner but hate the sin."

I have had to rethink my thoughts on homosexuality over the years, but I'm pretty sure I'm there now. Actually I've gone back to my teenage years when, when rumours flew around about Cliff Richards, I couldn't imagine God being cross about one person loving another even if they were men. (Consensual of course.) "How can that be wrong?"

For a time after I'd found a real faith I felt I had to toe the line and that it does actually seem to say in the bible that it's wrong. Now I've come to a better understanding of those texts - although if I'm completely honest it's more that I still have questions for God - and most importantly am more convinced than ever that God is love and that his love is for absolutely everybody as Jesus demonstrated with his life and death and love. No-one is outside his love.

In the swim

Nearly full tide at Rotherslade, the beach of my childhood. Family legend is that when my mother was young she could dive off Donkey Rock on the right and swim underwater to the rocks on the other side. She was a good swimmer; I potter along but don't ask me to get anywhere quickly.

The water was lovely and it felt so good to be in it. Very little seaweed but quite pebbly until you got past them. I noticed all the professionals i.e. old ladies, were wearing crocs or swim shoes. Not attractive but much more elegant than trying to get in or out without stumbling over.

Oh yes, and I had my blood test results: all satisfactory as expected - except in those moments when the receptionist looks for the results and I become convinced she's taking a long time and I must have something dreadful.

GrandSon3, however, is on crutches after damaging his leg taking a penalty in a football tournament in school. The doctor asked Elder Son if they'd already been to  A&E (and thus acquired the crutches.)

Elder Son explained, "No, we already had them from last year when I hurt my leg playing football in a tournament . . ."

What sort of idiot am I?

To go to a new exercise class on the hottest day of the year so far and, instead of taking it easy and finding my feet, throw myself into it at full pelt.*

My arms were already aching a bit after digging at the weekend and using my wrist weights on Monday; today every bit of me aches. 

And in between we had some grandchildren and a puppy for a no-sleep-over as their parents were going to an Arctic Monkeys concert.

I'm hoping a dip in the sea later will ease my aches. Having a pool has made us lazy. We very rarely go to the beach as it's "too busy, too difficult to park, too crowded". But really with all this glorious weather we have to.

* Which was still slower than the one-legged man.

Husband in my good books

Last week in the supermarket I picked up a pair of exercise shorts. They weren't ideal but the only ones they had so, as I've been wearing shorts held together by a safety pin for as long as I can remember now, I bought them.

I put them on this morning. "I'm not sure about these shorts," I said. "They're a bit too short."

"No, they're fine," Husband said. "You've got nice legs."

The only problem occurred when we did seated exercises - on a plastic covered chair. And it was the warmest session we've had even though it was cloudy. 

I wore my weights but unfortunately my heart monitor took a break halfway* through so I couldn't tell if the extra weight increased my calorie usage.

*Of course it might have been my heart that stopped rather than the monitor. No, it was quite a long period. I think I'd have noticed.

P.S. There is a defibrillator outside the hall - useful to know in case of emergencies.

Loosing the beast

Yesterday Husband grumbled at me for cutting down some of the bushes; today he tells me we're going to get a man in to clear the back completely and put up a fence.

It's quite a big job with several trees and tall bushes to be removed, but it will give me a whole new canvas on which to work. I foresee a rosy future.

Meanwhile the gooseberries are flourishing as is the rhubarb. We already have a freezer-full of both so I am going to have to be creative.

The raspberry patch is coming along well - helped by George's ashes - and we should get plenty of fruit.

That is if I can win the war against convolvulus. I don't think I am a vindictive woman but I hate convolvulus and its insidious clingy creeping squeezing vines.

Not at all predictable

Looking a bit better having cleared away five bags of twigs.

I asked Husband if he fancied going to the garden centre this afternoon expecting him to say, "No, it'll be too busy."

To my surprise he said, "Yes, okay."

Ten minutes later he said, "I don't think it's a good idea to go today. Wouldn't it be better to go on Monday when it's not so busy?"

So that's what we're doing.

I plan to plant a rambling rose at the back in the hopes it covers the wall, and then some shade-loving plants in front as it's quite a shady part of the garden. And in the meantime we'll put a tub of pretty flowers in the bit on the left until I get it cleared and re-planted.

 

I might have got a bit carried away

Underneath all that mass of cuttings is a two-tiered bed. Husband is not amused. "What have you done? The neighbours will be able to see into our garden now!"

Only if they come right up to the wall and peer.

Anyway, here's a collage of some of our roses currently in bloom.

Muted celebrations

So Boris Johnson has gone. "For now," he said. He resigned as an MP yesterday with immediate effect.

I'd like to feel happier but there is still so much wrong with the political system. It would be nice to think this is the beginning of a change but with Sir Jacob Rees-Mogg and Dame Priti Patel, it doesn't feel like it.

Priti Patel, for those who don't know is in charge of the deporting refugees to Rwanda scheme and leading the fight against the small boats bringing desperate asylum seekers across the channel. 

Jacob Rees-Mogg is - well, take what you imagine when you hear that name and double it in awfulness.

On to cheerier things. 

The glorious weather is set to end soon but we've had four weeks of sunshine, even got a mention on the BBC weather site: Mumbles, near Swansea, recorded its last measurable rainfall on 8 May.

This morning it's a mix of sunshine and little clouds so I think I'll take advantage of the not-too-hot weather and do some more gardening ready for my new roses.

For no reason, here's an old photo of my shell mandala. I have a large glass full of sea glass and keep thinking I could make pictures out of it. Maybe one day.

How does my garden grow?

I remember as a child that though we had peonies growing in the garden we never picked them and took them in the house. If you ever stuck your nose in one you'd find the reason: ants. 

Now, growing peonies in my own garden, I still don't pick them - though that is because until this year the number of blooms has been quite small - but I also haven't noticed any ants in them.

I was reminded of the relationship between ants and peonies by a post on Ann's blog. A bit of research tells me that ants and peonies have a mutually beneficial relationship. Peonies provide nectar for the ants to eat and ants protect the blooms from other insects that may feed on flowers. Unlike aphids ants don't harm the flowers. So there you have it.

You may notice in the top left corner of the photo the first rose on one of my newly-planted bushes. I have gone mad for roses recently and just last night ordered two more. 

I always opt for the highly-fragranced ones even though my sense of smell is just about gone. My thinking is that I may not be able to enjoy the perfume but it will be lovely for others who sit in the arbour or walk around the garden.

I am grieving for my lost sense though.

In another part of the garden a rambling rose - not planted by me - is going wild, branching over the path and the ?* bush. I can't remember its name but each day it drops its flowers for more to bloom the next day.

* Cistus

Made for fighters

The teacher banned dumb-bells from exercise class - probably worried about what damage a group of old ladies could do to each other from flying weights - so I ordered myself some wrist weights. (I gave up and went online in the end.)

I rather like the titling on the address label.

I opted for the 0.5 kg weights. One pound-ish on each arm I think I can cope with. I can always move up if it's too easy. That's what I said to myself.

Having tried them on I think these will suffice!

Free ice cream

"Oh that's a nice Jaguar," I said, as I parked next to it. "No, wait, it's got Ferrari on the tyres."
I looked again at the symbol: a horse. "Oh, it's not a Jaguar, it's a Porsche."
Little think. "No, wait, it might be a Ferrari."
I checked the back. Yes, it had Ferrari written on it. 

I don't usually like Ferraris you see. But this was a very nice one. Red and shiny.

I was on my way to a book launch. A Welsh author was doing a whistle-stop tour of Welsh bookshops to promote her latest book. I thought it would be nice to go and support a fellow writer. Plus there was the promise of free ice cream. (The book's called Summer at the Ice Cream Café by Jo Thomas.)

She was late. I got cornered by a very talkative one-legged lawyer. But I got my free ice cream. The author wasn't actually in the bookshop for long to chat so I had my ice cream and went. I'm not good at chatting anyway. Not that I would have had a chance with lawyer there. He did give me some helpful advice: if M&S fines you for staying too long in its car park don't pay it. Chances are they won't bother taking you to court.

I didn't risk it. I moved my car before doing a bit of garden shopping.

P.S The publicist took this photo.

Not sure why we're so misty!