Oh Joy: Alone at last!

I have another ninety minutes of total freedom before my minder returns! Ninety minutes which I can waste surfing the net, sleeping in front of the telly, thinking about the meaning of life, catching up on admin, watching the cricket, cutting the lawns (too strenuous), or just doing what I enjoy most, writing down my thoughts.  This is an activity I have rediscovered in the last week, ever since the grim reaper was dissuaded to stay away a while longer.  Haha! Who will have the last laugh? Inevitably the GR, but I hope to dodge him, or is it her, for some years yet; after all I am indestructible, and until I split my head open on some unseen steel structure, I'm safe. That is the way it will be. Sober as a judge, I will walk into some unseen object and end my days in a pool of blood!

I'm sitting looking at our garden, loved and highly manicured by both of us and soon to be in the Didsbury Open Gardens for 2022. I can barely name six of the dozens of plants we have, almost all perennials, but my favourites have to be Verbena and Acanthus. Both are green as you would expect, the first tall, thinnish with small blue flowers, the other architectural with huge leaves and buds which break out into bland and palish heads of indeterminate colour. But this is not about my or our garden now; it is rather the question of how we eacg manipulate nature to our personal choice.  What will 109's garden look like in ten years time? will it have developed or declined. Will I have survived or died? Questions only time can answer, and fortunately Father time is miles away on the clock or it it a wind direction indicator at Lords cricket ground? A what? That's gross; maybe it's a weather vane, or an anemometer?

Enough of this verbiage! I have again proved my way with words, pity I don't get the opportunity to use this skill any longer. Standing in front of the Lord Mayor and officers of the education department with most hanging on my every word motivated me for years; reading the lessons in church with my vaguely Welsh accent always led to affirmation; even a rendition of "Mae hen wlad fy nhadau" usually raises some Saxon heckles, how i love that!

So time to reflect, think on, consider and inwardly digest the confident, even arrogant pose I strut, and enjoy a moment of quiet sounds, the birds in the hedges, the barking dog, the gentle breeze, and the ping of that bloody mobile.

Relax, breathe in, close eyes, even sleep!