Monday and I wake feeling quiet refreshed and laid back. My partner brings me my first hot water of the day and I check my cyber gadget for messages, mail and litter. I then check the BBC news and weather forecast, watch a couple of amusing slots on my news feed and take my vitals. Having dawdled a bit I pick up a message from a friend with a picture, her sewage pipe has backed up and overflowed into the garden. That is, as she pointed out a truly crap way to start the day. I get up feeling lucky and tuck into honied toast and herbal tea. Its then that I realise that some thing is missing in my life. My green house isn’t there in the garden! Bloody storm Isha has nicked my greenhouse!
I finish my breakfast, pull on my snow boots and slug down the garden. And there is my green house laying on its side hiding behind the Shed. I am relieved, I had fantasies of it going Dorothy like on a tornado to some far off garden and wreaking havoc on the way. It took two hours or more to clear away the scatter crap and to bring the green house, who is now called Dorothy after her little windy trip, back to the vertical and standing in its allotted space. Dorothy has a broken joint that I mend with super glue and then I contemplate how to protect poor Dorothy from further weather driven escapades. Storm Jocelyn is on the way I find some tent pegs and drive several in around the frame of Dorothy and lash her to them, like Ulysses lashed to a mast to avoid running aground after hearing the Sirens sing. With Dorothy firmly anchored I replace her internal shelves and bits and bobs, finally zipping her up against the coming inclement weather. My efforts have exhausted me and I am glad of the bacon sandwich my partner makes me.
I have brought the garden camera in and start to review its contents. Its all squirrels and wood pidgeons except the section where it has captured the team felling our trees before Christmas, it takes a long time to go through and it has made me forget that I was going to put a crockpot meal on for tonight. I finish up the camera and go to the kitchen and proceed to make my famous one pot, a chicken and chorizo dish flavoured with herbs and smoky pimento. It is a tasty winter meal especially when made with red wine and a dash of brandy. With the stew bubbling nicely, I clear the kitchen and move the car off the drive ready for the Tesco delivery.
As the stew bubbles I start to draft the blog in anticipation of both the food and the Tesco delivery. With those out of the way I can get on with BBC 2’s quiz night, or as I think of it, revealing my ignorance night. In fairness I get some of the general knowledge on Mastermind, less on University Challenge but any correct answer on Just Connect raises a whoop of joy. That does not happen often, perhaps once a series. My aim is for another early night and a tomorrow when I can train and get out and about a bit, even if it is only to the shop for a paper and the café for breakfast. I take my night chemo meds and go to bed.
