Garden Flurry

Bit of a mad moment in the garden this morning. Not from me - I was having a housewifely moment inside - but Andy suddenly disappeared and before I knew it he had dug and manured a hole for the damson tree he got for Christmas, moved the fig tree from the grounds of Cluckinghen Palace to the front garden where my willow tree lived and died, and planted the Christmas tree in the space vacated by the fig tree.

Whew! We'd been pondering where to locate the damson tree. For a start, it was a lot bigger than expected, and there's always the concern about roots interfering with house foundations and branches overhanging the neighbours. In hindsight, given our tiny patch of England and how full it is already with hens and bees and greenhouse and raised bed, a damson tree was not the brightest thing to decide to want, but damsons are so great vis a vis the making of jam and wine and Andy wanted one, so get one he did. But I think I can safely declare the land at Much Malarkey Manor officially full. Satisfying, but slightly sad.

The hens, of course, were very helpful in the digging and manuring of the damson tree hole.
Last night I dreamt I was practising on my piano keyboard and my Dad appeared and started sound-proofing the walls. I also dreamt that my cousins (of which I have many) started to become grandparents themselves, and there was a bit of rivalry betwixt the assorted great-grandparents about whose grand-child/great-grandchild was the best. Well, mine is of course, but no-one would listen. So what does this portend? That my piano practise is going to be horrendous and perhaps I should invest in some earphones so I can plinky-plonk away en silence? That there is going to be a major bust up between various family members and I'm going to be standing on the sidelines trying to chuck in my pennyworth and being roundly ignored? (Nothing new there then!)

Or merely that my brain is over-heating again?

On the Nearly King Jimbo front, there have been several favourable comments from family and friends who received a copy for Christmas. There has also been a deathly silence from other recipients, but mostly people have enjoyed reading it and had a bit of a chuckle so as far as I am concerned, mission accomplished in the spread-a-little-happiness stakes. The royalties have amounted to a grand total of £8.86; later I shall research exactly how many bricks this will buy for the start of our self-build project.

I continue to be bemused by the arrival of the New Year but am persisting in photographing my food.

Weirdo!