Monday night. Spent watching The Fabulous Mr Fox. With a friend. Overeating Minstrels. (Me - not her). And seeing the Jonz trailer for the first time. Noticed I keep getting my words mixed up. Indigestion all day Sunday. Stress probably. The forthcoming operation? Or the ten hour days at work? The stupidly arrogant nurses at the clinic last week? Or knackering my knee and having to reduce my physio for a couple of weeks.... Or simply a Scottish winter closing in....
But its not all doom and gloom. Swapped the guerrilla allotment for Lynn's mother's garden rather closer to home. A ten minute walk. With a shed. And a briar jungle. Sharing it with an old school friend. Clearing the brambles and tripping over stumps was a (failed) test for my foot. I haven't mastered rough ground yet. But the garden is cool. As are the 'new' neighbours. One with a handy machete. And another with a pretty cat and a penchant for wildflowers. And a sunny market garden wall for everyone. I hope Lynn's mother doesn't move. At least not for a couple of years.
I still carry my stick around. But I forgot to take it to the clinic last week. Which must be a good sign. Its more of a comfort blanket these days. But after the gardening, I needed it for sure. And after operation Number 5, its companion will be dragged out of the wardrobe and put back into service. 352 days in.
I'm planning some sort of survival anniversary on the 19th. Anyone for Where the Wild Things Are?
But its not all doom and gloom. Swapped the guerrilla allotment for Lynn's mother's garden rather closer to home. A ten minute walk. With a shed. And a briar jungle. Sharing it with an old school friend. Clearing the brambles and tripping over stumps was a (failed) test for my foot. I haven't mastered rough ground yet. But the garden is cool. As are the 'new' neighbours. One with a handy machete. And another with a pretty cat and a penchant for wildflowers. And a sunny market garden wall for everyone. I hope Lynn's mother doesn't move. At least not for a couple of years.
I still carry my stick around. But I forgot to take it to the clinic last week. Which must be a good sign. Its more of a comfort blanket these days. But after the gardening, I needed it for sure. And after operation Number 5, its companion will be dragged out of the wardrobe and put back into service. 352 days in.
I'm planning some sort of survival anniversary on the 19th. Anyone for Where the Wild Things Are?
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