Narrative Self

First hedgerow flowers?

My legs ache, especially my inner thighs.  Not sure if it was all the lunges, squats and pliets I did yesterday morning at aerobics or the two hour walk that followed.  A friend and I walked across fields of mud and along wooded paths under a bleak, miserable sky, but it was the best walk I’ve had this year (so far!).  We devised a circular walk from her home in the village of Perranwell and despite her initial protestations I was glad we took the OS map with us!  The pair of us have lived in or around the area for years, but surprisingly there are so many paths neither of us had been down that we would easily have got ‘lost’ and our two hour walk would have turned in to four; by which time my legs would probably have dropped off.  It was exhilarating to be outside though and worth the aching legs just to see the first beautiful snowdrops.

I enjoyed the fresh air so much that I’ve been outside again today, spreading muck over the garden and dreaming about home-grown vegetables.  But the rain started to come in, so I headed back inside; into the shed.  I’ve been wanting to sort it out for a few weeks now, but not got up the steam.  I didn’t know what else to do with myself (restless moi?!), so it seemed like as good a time as any.  The place was a complete tip; I could barely even get through the door, thanks in large part to the landlady’s divan bed that I’ve got stored in there.  And my bike.  And my potting table.  And my plastic greenhouse.  Oh and the patio chairs and table.  And a load of tools.  And a dustbin.  And numerous empty boxes…

I always dream of one of those ‘country living’ potting sheds: rows of gleaming gardening tools; willow baskets and trugs; stacks of teracotta pots; galvanised watering cans and a butler sink (with bib taps of course), complete with spider’s webs.  It comes with roses round the door and rose tinted spectacles.  In the real world my shed is block built with a concrete floor and a half gabled roof, the highest part of it being your average ceiling height, the lowest part less than your average head height.    It’s not big, so the storage of said aforementioned double divan is a pain in the posterior.  I needed to make more space ready for my potting spree in what will soon be spring (trust me!).  So, I took everything out and left it in the spitting rain, while I tried to make sense of the space inside and organise it more methodically.  I managed to store one half of the divan on top of the other (vertically), with the help of my surprisingly strong-armed son.  Despite his pleas that he was going to drop it or I was going to crush him, he flexed his wee biceps to wonderful effect.  Soon worn out with his efforts he declined to help me further and went back to crash on the sofa from whence he came.

My potting table, after the serious clearing up

Then I tackled the mini greenhouse. I’d dumped it in the shed on top of the potting table, because when it was outside it kept blowing away in the winter winds.  Obviously I needed to dismantle it, which I duly did.  And wrecked it in the process.  The metal poles had rusted around the plastic supports and more sort of fell apart than came apart.  Oh well, it saved some space.  After an hour or so fart-arsing about I managed to get the shed into much more usable shape, providing I take my bike out when I want to work in there.  It might be small and modern and without much charm, but I shouldn’t complain really, since it does come with some much appreciated modern inventions including an electric light and a double socket.  It even has a sash window and plastered walls.  If I didn’t need a shed, I could lay a carpet and put in a SINGLE bed!

By the time I’d got everything back in and could actually stand at the table to work, the wind was well up and an impending storm on its way.  I locked the shed up and went back into the warmth of the house, thinking about those veg seeds I must order before long.  As I sit here now  (several hours later) under my yellow blanket writing, the rain is lashing the windows, the wind is gusting up to 60 – 70mph, and I’ve just seen a flash of lightening.  And just as I’m all tucked up for the evening a certain someone tells me that we’ve run out of milk and he wants cereal.  I suggest spinach (for his muscles obviously), which goes down like, well, spinach.

One last thing before I go, take a look at this lovely, lovely blog I came across today: My Tiny Plot.  I’m pretty sure it’s one I’ll visit regularly. (Don’t just lust after the vegetables, look at those gloves!!!)  I’m planning to reorganise the links in the sidebar soon, so it may well appear there too.