It is wonderful to be getting back into the swing of things after an enforced inclement weather break. Mine, and those around me’s, wellbeing was being threatened by this incarceration. Things were becoming desperate.
My gold nails were commented upon more than once today. They are a reflection of too much time on my hands. Literally. Which means boredom. An old employer of mine once told me, as I was photocopying reams of construction contracts, possibly as he was on his way out to lunch at the club, that it was up to me to make this task enjoyable. Once I explained this infuriatingly insensitive comment to the nice constable I was let off with a caution.
Of course there were a myriad of constructive things I could have been doing whilst I couldn’t get out to work. Things that I will grumble about in the future. Later this week, when I excuse myself from SoS as I am away for the weekend, leaving the OH at home whilst I fan and feed chocolates to my mum, there will be cries of “but you had all that time to prepare!”. Or when the spare room isn’t ready and I am in blind panic as our guests are approaching the front door, shoving melodeons and dinosaur suits in cupboards and a life-sized cardboard cut out of David Essex under the bed, you will be saying “all that time wasted painting your nails”. And I will say “that is the way with ennui, it drains the resolve”. All is well now. I am back where I belong.
Today it was showery, but the waterproof trouser trick worked a treat. This universal rule is quite simple and a trick of the trade I will willingly share. Keep them on and the sun will shine, take them off the heavens will open. Try it, you will find it spookily effective.
A feral Anemone coronaria, planted some place distant and now self seeded where it chose to be, is the kind of violet-blue that makes me very happy.