We’ve started on another marathon weed-clearing exercise. This was done a month ago, but they’ve grown back, as weeds do, over the last couple of weeks. And we’ve cleared three beds in the kitchen garden, but there are a few more to go. The beds are 4 feet wide and 30-something feet long, which is very practical for growing vegetables but quite a lot to keep in trim.
Having worked assiduously for a couple of hours this morning, we thought we’d go to the pub for a beer. And we swept up Roses to take with us, which was both a brilliant idea and a bit of a boo-boo, because it meant we had three drinks instead of one and then we arrived home and went on to wine. And then we sang. And danced. And, I should have said at the start, we played music throughout.
It could well be that we don’t let go enough. I remember Lovely Tim’s birthday party, the second time I met him (after the blog party) when I reckoned I’d never meet any of those people again, except possibly Tim himself, and put on the persona of the life and soul of the party. It was a front: I don’t usually enter into the spirit of an occasion quite that much. That doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t – but prolly (as the young people said a year or two ago) it isn’t a good idea every day. Anyway, Roses and Tim and I have laughed and let go of all our tensions – and then were sensible and fed animals. Seems okay.