Over night the apple tree is suddenly in full white and pink blossom. A soft luminous beacon at the end of the garden this evening.
I'm thrilled with my new lawn mower - bought last weekend with the help and advice of a dear friend. It's a cheap B&Q electric one and even though the wheels fall off occasionally it makes our ropey little lawn look almost manicured.
One of Robin's first ceramics - with a new head-dress.
This afternoon I bake an olive oil chocolate cake - a house warming gift for tomorrow. Then I let go of all the things I haven't done or said or written and sit in the garden with a cup of tea, and to make up for yesterday, read my novel - Jojo Moyes "The Last Letter From Your Lover', while the sun either blazes or disappears behind swirling grey clouds.
I think I have plenty of time as Robin is out with dear brother in law. But they come back within the hour. Half way to Tiverton Robin says he's tired and wants to come home.
My disappointment is all consuming. Later on I'm cross and irritable with him when he wants to get undressed to rest and then dressed again shortly afterwards to go for a walk.
I'm tired at the end of long week. He must be too especially as he doesn't sleep all through the night. Neither do I. The kind and reasonable part of me understands and sympathises with him, wants to make allowances for his conditions. But the deprived and disappointed part of me wants to scream,
Go away, leave me alone, I can't do it any more.
In the end I give in. Get him dressed. He goes for walk on his own and I bang about in the kitchen making supper - feta and spring onion omelette with boiled to death ( mashable) broccoli. ( Oh Ive just remembered the left over mashed potato I heated up in the oven and forgot to serve - it's still there - I knew there was something missing).
I can't remember what Friday nights used to be like before all this.... a walk to the allotment, the cinema, a DVD, a take away, a bottle of wine?
Too tired to miss it all now.
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