Thursday 25th May 2023
Dear Diary,
I’d like to establish a small fact. I’m not dead. I didn’t ‘sadly pass away’ in 2017, as claimed by some AI chatbot. It got that completely wrong, along with most of my book titles. And the men folk do not live on a country estate. Yeah, the gardens are big, I grant you, but they don’t constitute a country estate. I’m not into bots, apart from the human derriere kind, but we won’t go there in case you have an elderly relative reading over your shoulder. Thanks H for breaking news of my demise, it was a bit weird, but I saw the funny side, eventually, after going to my GP to make sure I was still alive. The tests came back positive. Blood runs through my veins and my heart is pumping just fine.
Anyway, the year creaks on. In my portion of Old Blighty the weather has been shite, cold, cloudy and wet, but fingers crossed we are currently enjoying a spell of sunshine. This is my busy time of the year with gardening to do along with household tasks. ZZ is a regular feature once again, hanging around the kitchen drinking tea and grumbling because I won’t let him rev up the mower. Along with Shane he’s currently in a state of high tension due to the length of the grass. It’s No Mow May and I’m determined to do my bit for the environment. No man is mowing my meadow until the first of June at the earliest. Yeah, it looks a bit wild out there, but that’s the point of NMM, and I rather like it. I’m winding Shane up at the moment by hinting I may never mow again and that a ‘wild’ garden all year round could seal our place in environment heaven, when we actually do die. Shane keeps checking the wall calendar, counting down the days until he can legitimately tell me that NMM is over and I can damn well get the mower out, or he will, or at least ZZ will. Shane doesn’t do grass, not with his hay fever.
On the writing front bits and bobs is trotting along and I have every hope of completing it this century.
The weekend just passed was pleasant. On Saturday, we all motored out to one of my favourite garden centres where I chose a ton of plants and some new garden ceramics. We then had a lovely lunch and headed home. The men folk enjoyed it as much as I did, even if Shane grumbled about the amount I spent on plants, or he spent on plants, seeing as he was footing the bill. On Sunday he was busy with work, so Dick and I went to the cinema to see the new Guardians of the Galaxy film. Dick was kind of meh about it, but I loved it. Mind you, it takes forever for the film to actually start. By the time the adverts and trailers are done, so is the ice cream and popcorn you’ve bought.
While sitting waiting for the actual feature to start I learned something about myself. I’m a judgemental shit. Honestly, I was shocked. Watching other folk file in I found myself looking at them and thinking things like: twat, twat, arsehole, chav, wanker, moron, etc. Thank god we don’t have speech bubbles appearing above our heads revealing out innermost thoughts. I’d get lynched. I think it’s a defence thing, you know, you look at someone and make a snap judgement because in some way they make you feel threatened. Shane sometimes says I don’t have a good word for anyone, now it seems I don’t have a good thought either. I’m ashamed. Must do better, houseboy.
Anyway, stuff to do, so enough chuntering. Take care, peeps, enjoy the summer as much as you can, and think NICE thoughts about people. Ciao for now. X
Dear Diary,
I’d like to establish a small fact. I’m not dead. I didn’t ‘sadly pass away’ in 2017, as claimed by some AI chatbot. It got that completely wrong, along with most of my book titles. And the men folk do not live on a country estate. Yeah, the gardens are big, I grant you, but they don’t constitute a country estate. I’m not into bots, apart from the human derriere kind, but we won’t go there in case you have an elderly relative reading over your shoulder. Thanks H for breaking news of my demise, it was a bit weird, but I saw the funny side, eventually, after going to my GP to make sure I was still alive. The tests came back positive. Blood runs through my veins and my heart is pumping just fine.
Anyway, the year creaks on. In my portion of Old Blighty the weather has been shite, cold, cloudy and wet, but fingers crossed we are currently enjoying a spell of sunshine. This is my busy time of the year with gardening to do along with household tasks. ZZ is a regular feature once again, hanging around the kitchen drinking tea and grumbling because I won’t let him rev up the mower. Along with Shane he’s currently in a state of high tension due to the length of the grass. It’s No Mow May and I’m determined to do my bit for the environment. No man is mowing my meadow until the first of June at the earliest. Yeah, it looks a bit wild out there, but that’s the point of NMM, and I rather like it. I’m winding Shane up at the moment by hinting I may never mow again and that a ‘wild’ garden all year round could seal our place in environment heaven, when we actually do die. Shane keeps checking the wall calendar, counting down the days until he can legitimately tell me that NMM is over and I can damn well get the mower out, or he will, or at least ZZ will. Shane doesn’t do grass, not with his hay fever.
On the writing front bits and bobs is trotting along and I have every hope of completing it this century.
The weekend just passed was pleasant. On Saturday, we all motored out to one of my favourite garden centres where I chose a ton of plants and some new garden ceramics. We then had a lovely lunch and headed home. The men folk enjoyed it as much as I did, even if Shane grumbled about the amount I spent on plants, or he spent on plants, seeing as he was footing the bill. On Sunday he was busy with work, so Dick and I went to the cinema to see the new Guardians of the Galaxy film. Dick was kind of meh about it, but I loved it. Mind you, it takes forever for the film to actually start. By the time the adverts and trailers are done, so is the ice cream and popcorn you’ve bought.
While sitting waiting for the actual feature to start I learned something about myself. I’m a judgemental shit. Honestly, I was shocked. Watching other folk file in I found myself looking at them and thinking things like: twat, twat, arsehole, chav, wanker, moron, etc. Thank god we don’t have speech bubbles appearing above our heads revealing out innermost thoughts. I’d get lynched. I think it’s a defence thing, you know, you look at someone and make a snap judgement because in some way they make you feel threatened. Shane sometimes says I don’t have a good word for anyone, now it seems I don’t have a good thought either. I’m ashamed. Must do better, houseboy.
Anyway, stuff to do, so enough chuntering. Take care, peeps, enjoy the summer as much as you can, and think NICE thoughts about people. Ciao for now. X