Remembering Soot
Another long day today. Up early and working on The New Idea again most of the day, apart from taking a constitutional in the park late this afternoon.
Had planned to be in London, but my key meeting fell through, which I was rather pleased about. Mooching about in my newly discovered walled garden again. I love walled gardens. Something about walling out of the rest of the world, to make a contained environment in which you can be connected to nature, but completely alone (if you are lucky). I also enjoyed the book A Secret Garden, when I was a child, despite the book cover saying it was mainly for girls.
Very warm, even late in the afternoon, and found a bench and did a spot of meditating, listening to the birds and the traffic nearby. Mooching slowly about I noticed one of the corners of the garden was lined with Victorian gravestones for dogs. Like poor Soot, who was poisoned in 1884. Quite touched by this. When you think of the millions who have died since then probably without as much as a gravestone, this little marker of someone's innocent love for their pet sustains. Crikey, I am on the edge of a Blue Cross moment here... An former client of mine.
Home and cooked for Lorraine, and after a bit it was upstairs again, with Lorraine doing preparation and me helping where I could. Stopped work at 10:30 drank some wine and watched a little TV before bed.
Below another snap in the garden, and doggy graves...
Had planned to be in London, but my key meeting fell through, which I was rather pleased about. Mooching about in my newly discovered walled garden again. I love walled gardens. Something about walling out of the rest of the world, to make a contained environment in which you can be connected to nature, but completely alone (if you are lucky). I also enjoyed the book A Secret Garden, when I was a child, despite the book cover saying it was mainly for girls.
Very warm, even late in the afternoon, and found a bench and did a spot of meditating, listening to the birds and the traffic nearby. Mooching slowly about I noticed one of the corners of the garden was lined with Victorian gravestones for dogs. Like poor Soot, who was poisoned in 1884. Quite touched by this. When you think of the millions who have died since then probably without as much as a gravestone, this little marker of someone's innocent love for their pet sustains. Crikey, I am on the edge of a Blue Cross moment here... An former client of mine.
Home and cooked for Lorraine, and after a bit it was upstairs again, with Lorraine doing preparation and me helping where I could. Stopped work at 10:30 drank some wine and watched a little TV before bed.
Below another snap in the garden, and doggy graves...
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