If Sundays were any busier, I might as well join the clergy. No, really, I have been about God's work for the whole morning, 8.30 until 12.45, and then again for half an hour this evening. Of course, I neither begrudge it nor expect a reward, here or in a possible afterlife.*
A delightful afternoon, at the gardens I mentioned a couple of days ago (sorry, it's grandbabies that make me too tired to link). The weather, though windy, was warm and sunny: not at all what was forecast. The gardens themselves were sheltered and Squiffany was enchanted with low box hedges, whether to make an arrangement that an imaginative toddler can call a maze, or a knot garden. Box hedges it will be, then. And a lovely vegetable garden, with lots of flowers and fruit on the walls. Now my family know what I'm driving at. I have got my daughter-in-law onside.
My darling girlie and her lovely husband are safely home from their holiday, and visiting next weekend. When they come, we will, we hope, arrange for me to visit them so that we can spend a Saturday together - I have warmly recommended Gormley and we hope to go together.
All, in fact, is entirely well. But it's too early to go to bed, so I must be hearty for at least another two hours. Bemuse or enchant my beloved family. Have a second glass of wine.
*Though 'here' would be most acceptable.
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Delightful people with a little too much time on their hands
Copyright
Oh, what's the problem? This is hardly Great Literature. I'd appreciate anything taken from here being acknowledged, and I might change my mind if I'm suddenly proclaimed as the Literary Queen of the Blogosphere - but I probably wouldn't. Do what you like, just as long as it doesn't extend to defamation of anyone, even me.
Actually, you want to pass off what I say as your own, I might even be flattered. Let's face it, who cares anyway?
20 comments:
I maintain that if I make it to heaven, then God will give me an old-fashioned broom to sweep those golden streets.
You however, will probably lead the heavenly choir and make beautiful music - which should make my job a bit easier to bear.
Dear heart, if I'm lucky I'll be allowed to scrub the steps outside the pearly gates.
I LOVE YOUR HOVERING QUESTION MARKS! WHERE DID YOU GET THEM? WHERE CAN I GET THEM?
Sorry for shouting, but they excite me. They are a perfect solution to the conflict between the linearity of language and the multiplicity of reality.
And your wine usage one makes me laugh, nay, makes me love you
x
Oh be quiet the pair of you. You're both the sort who will be sat at the head table. Such modesty, I mean really...
We have a low box hedge around our veg garden as its visible from the house, but no wall to grow things up. It is one of LL's long standing ambitions to have a walled garden. Lovely.
ps I sometimes go to bed at 8.23, if that's what I feel like doing. It is hard to explain or justify if one has company of any kind though.
(Unless it is that sort of company that might join you...)
Nah, Boy, we'll be too busy giggling behind the bike sheds, each with glass in hand. You're the one who will be given a place of responsibility.
Which you will promptly delegate and come join us, of course.
I will get my walled garden. My beloved will, one day, find the perfect bricks. Then all I have to do is to build the thing.
They are indeed, Dandelion, and you put it beautifully.
Wendz was kind enough to let me into the secret and, having let me tell the Boy, I'm sure she won't mind me telling you too. I'll send you an email.
And you are such a darling.
Sadly, last night, I was actually asleep before the Sage got into bed!
I don't go to bed early because it makes me wake in the small hours. Unless, of course, it is for purposes of dalliance.
I dillied and dallied,
Dallied and dillied,
Lost my way and don't know where to roam
You can't trust a back-up like the old-time bloggers
When you can't find your way home.
Do not, as some ungracious bloggers do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven
While, like a puffed and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance tread
And recks not his own rede.
z, reclaimed bricks (1,000 for around £150-£200, in NoYo at least) could provide an 'in-keeping' feel to your walled garden and inexensively so. I agree with Dandelion, those dotted lined words do add 'summat else' to the whole blog thingy.
Have a good week.
I see no 'hovering question marks'?
Obviously you didn't crash out in front of Diana'a concert!
The dotted underline, PI, on the two glasses of wine? Don't you see it? The sexiest blog-candy since I don't know when.
And oh, z. What can I say? If i had a hat, I'd take it off to you.
You are right, Ad - after much searching for new bricks, including the possibility of getting hand-made ones, we came to the same conclusion. They still have to be the 'right' reclaimed bricks though, and that's my husband's department. 21 years ago we moved back to his family home, where he was born, and I'm not being subservient in saying he has the final word here.
You too!
Pat, no I didn't - not quite my kind of music!
And Dandelion has explained how to find the question marks - just hold your mouse over the word, no need to click and the question mark comes up first, then the hidden comment. I love it.
Dandelion, time was (long time ago though) when I could quote most of Hamlet and that's a favourite bit.
Blimey, it's a bit busy round these parts.
I too love the quessie marks. They are rockin'. I'd ask you for the secret myself, but I don't always like to know how magic works.
I am, as so often, struck by your wisdom BD.
I used to be the same about King Lear, many moons ago - some twelve or fourteen moonshines lag of a memory, as it happens.
But badge, if knowledge is power, then magic is autonomy. If question marks be the food of love, then question on. That's what I say.
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