wet weekend

A few months ago my garden was a tiny rectangle of concrete, uneven concrete at that. A few pots and lots of rubbish. Now look!

No time at all since JJ and I were pushing in roots of things we didn't know would spread.

And of course a few obligatory purchases to get things going, like this willow and three climbers that are loving the rain we're having.

Before you know it the place is full of colour and texture. I go out every morning before work to see how much further the shoots have grown or how the tendrils are curling round the support wires.

I've had fun reclaiming some old tiles from a table we once had and getting bargains on left overs. It took a bit of courage to stick them up on the walls but I think they look quite cool. The plan is that the plants will grow over them and you'll just catch glimpses of them.

And it's not just me looking forward to the better weather!

the root of all fun

retail therapy is a shallow, vacuous and utimately hollow experience.

unless you got the gorgeous 'long' shorts i bought from monsoon today.

am experiencing ennui. inexplicable. maybe it's the late nights, excessive carbohydrates and petrol fumes of the M1 at 10 mph every day. or just your run of the mill existential angst.

bran something. what's that cereal called? not bran flakes but the one that comes in shreds. was imagining a bowl of them but couldn't think what they were called. bran something.

:)

got it

lousy

Sent a grouchy text to Mr K telling him I was waiting to find out if he'd collected my prescription as I felt awful. Mysteriously got a text back from Lotus telling me he thought I might have sent it to the wrong person. haha! oops. Anyway, I'm fine really!

No-one cashed up yesterday so I spent hours sorting out two days worth of properly messed up tills and petty annoyances which boil down to people being a bit shoddy. But of course I was waiting for interview results so petty annoyance quickly turned to general irritation at everything.

So. No phone call. No result. Strange, cos "M" is startlingly efficient. They must be negotiating my payrise. (ie...will they bother giving me one!)

Finished reading 'Republic of Trees'. Very good but ends quite chillingly in the last 50 pages or so. You can pretty much see it coming but it's still disturbing. Deciding what to read next. Probably another Everitt cos the last one I read by him I loved with a passion. Although the mantlepiece in the bedroom should be bowing under the weight of yet to reads.

Need to sleep. The alarm goes off in 6 hours.

random

I've seen this before elsewhere but I kinda like it:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don’t search around and look for the “coolest” book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you



Posts, and rails, and old cautions to trespassers, and backs of mean houses, and patches of wretched vegetation, stared it out of countenance.

wake up call.

The night before last I lay in a half sleep for what seemed like an hour but probably was only 20 minutes. You know how it is. There was enough noise being made outside for me to be conscious of it but I was hoping it would ease off and I wouldn't have to make my way up to the surface of full consciousness. Nice idea. I thought I heard some racist abuse being shouted, loud music then enormous crashes. I was awake and at the window...just in time to see the streaker. Ye gods, half three in the morning and a big, fat, pasty and frankly, unimpressivly endowed male is running up and down the road with his hands in the air. More racist rantings, more shouting, more music, more throwing of wheelie bins. I'm assuming there's an unforgiving mix of alcohol and student involved in this unsightly performance.
7 am sees me up for work and banging the hell out of their front door in the hope of really, really getting on the wrong side of them and pointing out how irritating it is being woken up. Sadly they were dead to the world. Or preferably just dead.
When they eventually surfaced, they would have found a letter on their mat telling them to keep their naked bodies and racist abuse inside the house. I wish I could have seen their faces when they realised there had been an audience. On the other hand, I think I've seen more than enough of their faces and everywhere else to last me.