Listen next time you use yours and if you don’t get it, imagine living in a caravan for 9 months then try again. Last night I did my laundry in my own house. I put too much in because I’m used to Industrial North American lundrette sized machines which chug and gurgle and slop and rattle but the Bosch just hummed away until the spin cycle reminded me that one of the feet needed to be dropped down another inch. Rather than wasting time I left the machine to its own devices and got on with some serious relaxing – watching the sun go down behind Summerland instead of staring at the blank wall of the launderette breathing in 20 years of secondary nicotine fumes left over from the days before they banned smoking in public places in Canada.
On the weekend I gardened frantically. I sowed Dianthus, Morning Glory (!), Penstemon, Cherry Tomatoes, Lobelia to go with the Lupind and a load of herbs planted last week. (Who needs children? My baby thyme are the joy of my life right now). I also sowed a random collection of seeds collected from our last garden which, until they can be identified are called, “Landrover”, “Black Creek” and “Lodge Mix”. They’re all indoors for now, stragely being watched over by Eric the sheep-shaped footstool.
