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Sunday, 15 August 2021

BIg pink knickers…

 eat your heart out.

Those of you who on occasion have been tempted to plough through my ramblings might remember my horror of dahlias and my likening them to big pink bloomers.

Whether it is reaching the age to be walking distinctly sideways up to the contemplation of actually buying a pair, I really have no idea.  However yesterday evening I wandered lonely over to the allotment and picked a dahlia.  Last night it wasn’t fully open, this morning I was greeted by this…

  


I think I’m in love.

Saturday, 14 August 2021

The thing is…

I really don’t do birthdays.  I never have, Why? Who knows.  As an only child who lived a solitary life,I became very self sufficient.  Although I do remember in those far-off August days the weather was always hot.  On one memorable occasion I got so excited at having a birthday party I made myself sick with the pent up fever of excitement.  So much so, I was posted off to bed while the party went ahead without me.  I can hear now from my darkened room the whoops of delight at my bestest chums scoffing all MY jelly and blancmange, sandwiches and cake.
As a consequence of this Freudian, probably totally wide of the mark assessment of my disinterest of the date in the year that marked my entry into the world, I get very few cards, in the main because I send so few.  Although having said all that when I glance across at the windows of houses as I wait for the traffic lights to change, seeing the rows of cards I often wonder if this is what comes to folk who remember everyones birthday.  Bit like a round robin type of thing.  What goes round comes round.  And the worm of wonder does start to think and turn… maybe?  The lights change and I roar off, never giving it another thought until the next red traffic light beside a home where a popular person lives!


It is my birthday today and for some strange reason I have quite a few cards… not that I deserve them, mind.
Thank you Monica for remembering.

BIg pink knickers…

 eat your heart out. Those of you who on occasion have been tempted to plough through my ramblings might remember my horror of dahlias and m...