Saturday starts with the payment of the above. This is what happens when you give a lift to your daughter because the fucking bus did not turn up to take her into town. Irony or what that due to a bus not turning up I get a fine for being in a bus lane at the train station. The good news is that because I’ve paid it before 14 days it only cost me £30. So that was the first job of the day as soon as breakfast was over and my weekly drugs wallet is filled. The post arrives and amidst it is a postcard from a friend from the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, it is a long time since I have been to YSP but intend to go soon and see what new sculptures there are to see. My partner and I go to our local garden centre to buy plants for her mothers patio pots, which I will replant tomorrow while my partner does the hand over from one carer to another. I discovered that I do not like queuing in the hot weather in a mask. We return home and I set about weeding out the front bed to make room for the new carnations. I intermittently watch the semi finals of the ice hockey championships as Canada beat the USA and Finland beat Germany. Once the garden was sorted it was time to wash the cars free of the coatings of grey dust they had acquired due to the road resurfacing that was done after the tarmac spillage earlier in the week. I take time to walk the garden and find the Iris has opened up more, its scent is heavy and intoxicating. This Iris is now at least over 75 years old. My grandfather returned from the first world war and found there was no work anymore fro a blacksmith so walked the streets of the land fit for heroes until he finally got a job as a gardener at Kew Garden. One day they were sent to clear plants from a large estate house where he found two types of iris. He took some home and grew them. When my parents moved into the house in Chiswick he gave them some to grow where they still thrive. When we moved into our current house my mother brought the two types of Iris to us and we have grown them ever since. These two strains of Iris have been part of our family for four generations now and smell as aromatic as they always have.

Eventually its time for tea and an evening of TV whilst writing the blog and preparing for tomorrow.