Chilling out

A marvellous feeling of relief, that there was nothing hideous or demanding to be done today. Walked home from Lorraine's house to feed Calliope. Encountered lots of police and a St George's day march -- which seemed to be a thinly disguised fascist gathering, which provoked a few scuffles as the day progressed. I wanted to punch their heads as I walked past. Later I could hear these geniuses outside a pub near the station shouting In-ger-land! In-ger-land! And, I think, Sieg Heil!

After Calliope fed, I returned and we drove up to a garden centre next to the racecourse high above town. Mist rolling in from the sea, and Lorraine and I mooched about looking at plants. I bought some for my window boxes which had been reduced to rotting sticks by the snow and frost. I opted for mainly yellow things, so lots of small marigolds, plus some orangey red geraniums, and a selection of yellow plants for bedding, plus some dark red verbina. Also looked at fishes, as there was a Maidenhead Aquatics up there too. Tempted by chanda ranga, Indian glassfish, which I have only seen recently in shops, but eventually thought better of it.

Back to my place and a happy hour spent with Lorraine supervising the planting of my plants into window boxes. Calliope happy too, barging about ambushing things while we worked. Lorraine gets a weird delight putting her hands into soil.

Lorraine returned home, and I spent a happy evening anticipating watching Match of the Day where Chelsea beat Stoke by 7-0 and regaining their lead of the Premiership by one point from the evil Manchester United. Anton trying to hex Chelsea's season by prematurely congratulating me on Chelsea winning the league.

Beset today by a rare feeling of tranquil happiness. All is well in my Pooterish little world despite below thugs and idiots outside the station.

Comments