Wishbone Soup Cures Everything

16/4/22 Saturday Wake achy. Scrabble for coffee, ponder irrigation, set off for work, making a detour for chicken sitting. I also check and water the pots in Middle Daughter's little polytunnel- trays and trays of greenery; beanstalks twisting, carrot leaves flickering, reptilian, ready to bask. Continue on my journey - there is blossom and new leaves on hedgeway trees, growing bit by bit, like watching a tapestry embroider itself. 17/4/22 Easter Sunday Mr is off to Exmouth for family time, I am off to work, via a bit of chicken company. They had laid me 4 eggs so clearly felt justified in hassling me for grain. The cows next door leaned over the fence to lick my hands. At work (after washing my hands) we took a stroll along the dunes at Par, amongst rose bushes and seabuckthorn and mist. 18/4/22 Monday At work. Tired. Struggle to keep awake driving home. 19/4/22 Tuesday Feels like I have slept for a million years- it’s half past six. Close my eyes for more. Coffee arrives. Dog fel...

9/4/22 Saturday Overnight a frost had lain down on our lawn, nestled to the edges. Sun rose unobstructed, warmed the ice to water, gave it little rainbows to wear. At work, I walked to Bethel Tesco to discover they do not have ink cartridge recycling envelopes anymore. They advised that I try the post office- also nope, but the post box had a yarn-bomb bunny on it, and the sun was warm, and everything was cheerful. 10/4/22 Sunday A frost, a pair of coffee cups, a lecture on agroforestry: we start the day right. Browse trees for a while, then up and on with daily stuff like raking out the fire ash and going to work. 11/4/22 Monday Morning: wild wind kicking through the garden. Put my pots in sheltered spots. Drive to work slowly because fuel is expensive, many high-sided vehicles also going slow for safety reasons, roads are busy due to Easter hols, definite convoy vibe.  Outside the air is fresh, bright, summer seems possible, another frost also possible- mischievous weather. 12/4...

2/4/22 Saturday No hydrotherapy for care client (or me) today- which is a shame because my glutes could benefit from heat treatment. Instead, we took a spin in her new car - and discovered it has heated seats! Happy glutes, although the warmth floods in like unexpected menstruation so it’s not entirely pleasant at first. Outside the temperature has dipped, we are indoors now with the heater on, playing a YouTube scene of a lakeside, with cherry blossom and vibrant birdsong. Care client is plucking her guitar. I am psyching myself up to get back into novel writing. Just a sentence or so, I say, that’s all you need do, to break the habit of not doing it. I will make a hot drink, I will remember how good it feels to get this work done. 3/4/22 Sunday This morning the curtains drew back to a blank sheet of mist. I ventured to the vernal lushness of the polytunnel to cut myself a bowl of leafy veg. My fingers were iced on the return journey, though the garden is getting warm with floral col...

26/3/22 Saturday First adventure: Black belt training, Newton Abbott. Added on to yesterday’s logging this really hit my glutes. Second adventure: packed up for a night on the land. We decided to test the sofa bed in the stable, and light the big fire pit in the lower field. Made up the bed with blankets, air mattresses, and duvet, made up the fire with ash twigs. Made Dog a nice bed on a pile of cardboard, a blanket, and her memory foam mattress. Too achy-tired to cook on the fire so we purchased fish and chips which we ate in the van watching the day’s colours blaze out. Caught a view of the sun as we drove in, it looked close enough to grab, vivid red, a whacking great star stuck on the tops of tree silhouettes. I’m getting the order of things muddled here because I am tired, but the views were worth it. The fire kept us toasty as long as we stayed close, the night was cold. Dog curled up in the grass, also tired after trotting around following scents and even bringing sticks to c...

19/3/22 Saturday Drive to work, it’s so windy- my car wobbles like a loose tooth in the road’s crooked jaw. A  buzzard flies, unintentionally, backward. We are back to hydrotherapy sessions on Saturday shifts- care client is happy like rainbows and bubbles- you can see it, it lifts you. Drive home under a moon that is first a copper penny, then a sepia peach, then I cannot decide the colour of it- if you held a candle lit glass of champagne in front of an old map, the kind with soft faded paper, and peered through the glass, those are the colours of this moon. (It doesn’t have to be champagne. Try also cider, cava, lambrini, fizzy lager, ginger beer- follow your heart.) 20/3/22 Sunday, Spring Equinox Mr has gone to Malmesbury (for the black belt pre-grading) so I wake alone but not lonely- the pigeons are loudly present, and the crows, and the hedge sparrows. I wake early so I sit in bed with my coffee and get some writing done. At work, take a walk: two hilly miles there and back...

12/3/22 Saturday Morning: coffee, sunshine, stretches in the warm light, crystal-cast rainbows on the walls. Dog walks stiffly between us and the kitchen, hoping to provoke breakfast. I drive to work, got my sunglasses on. At work: I take a lunchtime walk. As I walk the wind picks up, clouds gather purposefully, the temperature drops- did not feel cold to me as I had set a warm pace. Not as speedy as the woman who runs out of her house in slippers, leaving her front door open, clutching a bunch of flowers. She calls to a lady in a red raincoat who turns and takes the flowers. Slipper lady walks back to her house, smiles awkwardly at me as she passes, her cheeks are flushed. Back at work: YouTube beach scene on TV, about to get some novel writing done, heavy rain splatting on the windows.  13/3/22 Sunday Another lunchtime ramble, to Porthpean where I sat on a ledge and looked out: low deep cloud, green water, waves a-swooshing, seagulls edging in with their eyes on my lunch. Picked...

5/3/22 Saturday St Piran’s Day Morning: frost on the greenery as far as the eye can see. Mr gets wrapped up ready for his hedge laying course, I get coffee-ed up ready to take Grandchildren 6 & 7 to the Eden Project for the World Pasty Championships: smug as I have pre-bought our pasties to avoid queueing. Afternoon: it is sheltered in the Eden valley, cold in the shadows, warm in the sun. Me, G6, and G7 sit on a bench and eat our pasties. (We are early because Granma’s fluid intake has reached capacity. In the rush to the loos, Granma also forgot to note in which car park the car was hastily abandoned, or even in which area- is it Lime? Plum? Banana? Ah well, at least my trousers are dry, and none of us are hungry or stuck in a queue.) The little ones are fun, in spite of being entirely uninterested in the entertainments of pasty challenges or live music. We whizz around the Mediterranean Dome, and the Tropics (wow that leaf is freaking massive, says G6; maffiv! echoes G7) we queu...