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!