Progress every day

Lorraine and I up fairly early doing more in the garden. Every day more progress, and it feels like a kind of excellent therapy -- every day seeing a bit of progress.  I dug a hole and we planted the third acer, in what we call the island, and decided the other side should be rocks. And also we managed to rebuild the wooden trug we brought with us from Brighton, ready to take strawberry plants. It involved quite a lot of work, and fiddling with rusted bolts me having to employ things like WD40 and a chisel. This gardening malarky may turn me into a hairy chested man of action yet.

Lorraine off to see Rebecca, one of her former colleagues, at her mother's house this afternoon. Her mother lives in Seaford and Lorraine was a kind of school mum to her, so it was a sort of mum summit. 

I tried to work on poems but I seem to bring muddiness and indecision to everything, when I need the exact opposite.  Had did a bit of job admin. Having to chase information about the job I was briefed about on Friday -- annoying to have to do this sort of thing at the weekend. Feeling a bit out of sorts at the moment with really loud tinnitus and a bout of acute acid reflux over the last few of days. 

Still it was a fine thing to sprawl on the gold sofa, eating a delicious Lorraine dinner of fish cooked in paper with aubergines and tomatoes (yes tomatoes as Lorraine was able to buy some in Seaford market this morning)  and baked potatoes and a home made tapenade. I think I have turned into a really boring person. I just want to sit in the warm and watch simple minded nonsense on TV like Death in Paradise. Luckily Lorraine is happy to do that with me.