A poetic whack a mole

Up and after a slow breakfast, Lorraine and I spent the day in the back garden. I love working in the garden. It was a sunny day, and apart from driving off to the garden centre to buy some slabs and hanging baskets we spent the day building a small raised bed and working in the fresh air. Though due to the the vulpine plague we can't plant much at the moment. Still good fun, and a bit of exercise too.

In other news I had a poem on the Ink, Sweat and Tears website today. And, popping up in cyberspace like a whack-a-mole, another in the Guernsey Poets site.

Spoke to Mum this evening till Facetime got a bit too maddening. Mason now recovering from his fall. She'd been off to see The Pirates of Penzance recently in an all-male production at Richmond Theatre.

John around to see Betty this afternoon, and after Lorraine and I were done in the garden, we all scarfed a pork roast supper, and watched The Imitation Game biopic about Alan Turing. A reasonable film, but of course maddening due to the unfairness it portrayed.

Below whacking moles, and Calliope in the garden.




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