Wishbone Soup Cures Everything

19/3/22 Saturday Drive to work, it’s so windy- my car wobbles like a loose tooth in the road’s crooked jaw. A  buzzard flies, unintentionally, backward. We are back to hydrotherapy sessions on Saturday shifts- care client is happy like rainbows and bubbles- you can see it, it lifts you. Drive home under a moon that is first a copper penny, then a sepia peach, then I cannot decide the colour of it- if you held a candle lit glass of champagne in front of an old map, the kind with soft faded paper, and peered through the glass, those are the colours of this moon. (It doesn’t have to be champagne. Try also cider, cava, lambrini, fizzy lager, ginger beer- follow your heart.) 20/3/22 Sunday, Spring Equinox Mr has gone to Malmesbury (for the black belt pre-grading) so I wake alone but not lonely- the pigeons are loudly present, and the crows, and the hedge sparrows. I wake early so I sit in bed with my coffee and get some writing done. At work, take a walk: two hilly miles there and back...

12/3/22 Saturday Morning: coffee, sunshine, stretches in the warm light, crystal-cast rainbows on the walls. Dog walks stiffly between us and the kitchen, hoping to provoke breakfast. I drive to work, got my sunglasses on. At work: I take a lunchtime walk. As I walk the wind picks up, clouds gather purposefully, the temperature drops- did not feel cold to me as I had set a warm pace. Not as speedy as the woman who runs out of her house in slippers, leaving her front door open, clutching a bunch of flowers. She calls to a lady in a red raincoat who turns and takes the flowers. Slipper lady walks back to her house, smiles awkwardly at me as she passes, her cheeks are flushed. Back at work: YouTube beach scene on TV, about to get some novel writing done, heavy rain splatting on the windows.  13/3/22 Sunday Another lunchtime ramble, to Porthpean where I sat on a ledge and looked out: low deep cloud, green water, waves a-swooshing, seagulls edging in with their eyes on my lunch. Picked...

5/3/22 Saturday St Piran’s Day Morning: frost on the greenery as far as the eye can see. Mr gets wrapped up ready for his hedge laying course, I get coffee-ed up ready to take Grandchildren 6 & 7 to the Eden Project for the World Pasty Championships: smug as I have pre-bought our pasties to avoid queueing. Afternoon: it is sheltered in the Eden valley, cold in the shadows, warm in the sun. Me, G6, and G7 sit on a bench and eat our pasties. (We are early because Granma’s fluid intake has reached capacity. In the rush to the loos, Granma also forgot to note in which car park the car was hastily abandoned, or even in which area- is it Lime? Plum? Banana? Ah well, at least my trousers are dry, and none of us are hungry or stuck in a queue.) The little ones are fun, in spite of being entirely uninterested in the entertainments of pasty challenges or live music. We whizz around the Mediterranean Dome, and the Tropics (wow that leaf is freaking massive, says G6; maffiv! echoes G7) we queu...

26/2/22 Saturday Last night we all had baths; Mr first, he likes the water hot, then me, then Dog, who protests the idea but settles in the warmth in spite of herself. Her ear fur was shampooed and conditioned, on account of all the undergrowth that needs combing out of it. She has her own towels, one for drying, one for putting on her bed to soak up the extra drips hiding in her thick coat. It’s surprising how much laundry Dog contributes to the household pile. At lunchtime, all clean and glowy, I go for a walk to Charlestown. Wave spume coats the harbour walls, the sea is stirred up, opalesque and green.   27/2/22 Sunday Coffee in bed with land plans- then up and walking the lanes- cut through the fields to see the old fallen oak down by the stream. It is bare and smooth and big, against a blue sky- a sky that is all the heavens, all the universes: infinity. The stream runs clear, noisy. Birds scoot through the scrub. It’s a close-your-eyes-and-step sort of a day, full of good fa...

19/2/22 Saturday Under a blown-fresh sky, I hang on to the lead while the LoveMe labrador bounds ahead. We meet a young spaniel, they have a little sniff and greet. Yesterday’s salad dish is pooped out a brilliant dark green, (by the dog, not me) I regret not photographing it. It is the 2nd most fabulous poo I have ever seen. (Once caught a fox squatting, it left behind a marvel, berry coloured and sculptured.) Drive to work over storm-strewn sticks.   20/2/22 Sunday Another storm squalling, not so severe. LoveMe Labrador and I bounce around the lanes. I talk to her about the snowdrops beginning to unbloom, the primulas peeking up, the daffodils throwing back their heads in the wind, clearly laughing. She looks at me with loving politeness. At work I go on a mission to Trelawney Garden Centre, and Bodmin Garden Centre, stocking up on two chunky cordylines, a tray of primrose, sweet peas seedlings, one variegated ivy, a striking black grass (Ophiopogon planiscapus), and a blue windf...

12/2/22 Saturday Another Saturday not on shift: got my yellow Welfare garb on again for a colour belt grading. Parents and carers are not allowed in the building. I stand on the door to remind them ‘Graders only past this point.’ I do let folks in to use the toilet though, that seems the civilised thing to do. Afterward, we go to Homeleigh Garden Centre to make dream plans for hedging and edging. The lure of seed packets costs us £40. Having a land budget makes us feel rich, and scared. It can only be spent once. Dreams are worth a risk. We are cold from our shrub browsing so we get pasties for lunch and eat them in the car, which is parked opposite a row of daffodils and purple crocus. This evening I make an inventory of seeds, then we f east on leftovers, we let Dog have lamb bones to munch. 13/2/22 Sunday Regret giving Dog the bones. Mr cleans up the carpet, then makes coffee. It’s just before 7am, there’s a swoosh of wild weather in the dark, raindrops on the window panes catching ...