2015 — 7 June: Sunday

More sunshine.1 A nice, fresh cuppa. A couple of semi-slumbering youngsters upstairs. Almost like old times.

They seemed...

... to enjoy "Ex Machina" but then, who wouldn't? And remembered to bring back the long-handled garden snipper. Not that I enjoy wielding it much, if at all.

I always enjoy...

... reading this lady, even when she teaches me yet another new (old) word:

In adulthood, worry, rather than joyful anticipation has tended to monopolise my sleepless nights. There I lie, clamped under my quilt, while everything I've ever done apparently falls apart and proves that everything I ever will do can fragment even more quickly. I know I'm not alone in this. It's a comforting historical fact that Old English had a special word — uhtceare — for what we just have to call pre-dawn anxiety.

AL Kennedy in BBC

The Highland clearances...

... are being re-enacted right here, in my little swathe of jungle in what used to be the back garden. I can foresee an expensive pub lunch in my near-term future. Probably after one or more trips to the local tip. [Pause] And acquisition of a hedge trimmer, I gather. And ant powder. [Pause] The last remnants of the vine have vanished. I can now see the entire back wall of the house.

Pub lunch...

... turned into an enjoyable early evening meal instead. My treat, as they'd been working very hard. I also seem to have a neighbour who's lobbying for me to employ the services of a gardener. But going via my son, not me. Tee-hee.



1  Possibly even another seaside adventure?