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Showing posts from February, 2007
Only the second month of the year and already bulbs have broken through the lawn. There is never any frost anymore and the old and bent pear tree is dotted with light green buds. The white, blue and yellow of the snowdrops, bluebells and daffodils catch the early morning sun as I tramp down the garden path to my car, their heads drooping downwards in a royal salute of my illustrious passage. I think that I might take a hedgetrimmer to the sarcastic bastards.

Surely it is still supposed to be winter? Surely the weather conditions should be a much closer match of my mood? Out of the warm house, away from the smells of lightly burnt toast and smouldering incense sticks, at nine in the morning on the way to eight hours of correcting other people’s mistakes (people who are not paid as much as me and so do not have to care) stepping into blazing sunshine, no wind, light birdsong and the fantastic motionless dance of mocking flower heads. Where are the cascading sheets of rain blown in, aroun…