There was a huge herb stall and I circled it three times controlling myself from buying every single variety of basil on the planet as I already have two on my kitchen sill. (There was African blue basil that was especially gorgeous). I really feel the pain of not having a garden when I look at herbs. I didn’t have any cash on me but Stuart offered to buy me a plant so I settled on rosemary since that is one of my most common purchases.

Stuart bought himself a succulent at anther stall and garlic. The garlic surprised me, with it being an outdoors plant but also Stuart is more interested in aesthetics with plants than with using them. For example, he won’t let me near his aloe.

We wandered over to the next stall where they were giving away pear tree saplings. Stuart took two.

“Honey, we don’t have a garden.”

“I’m going to put it in my office.”

“But it’s a pear TREE. It should be outside.”

“I’ll get a container. All it needs is sun and water.”

“Okay honey.” I’ve learned that there is no reasoning with Stuart when he gets an idea about something. He’s like a raccoon stuck in a trap with its paw wrapped tightly around something shiny. If it let go, it would be free.

“Now all you need is a partridge,” I smirked.

“Waa?”

“To go with your pear tree.”

When we got home we put the rosemary and the garlic on the sill.

“And don’t you go near my garlic!” Stuart turned the plant protectively.

“You do realise that at some point we’ll need to dig up the garlic.”

“What are you talking about?”

I held one of my garlic bulbs against the base of the plant. “This is in the dirt and at some point you’ll need to pull it up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Garlic is a bulb. It grows in the dirt. Like onions.”

“You mean. . .” Stuart turned and looked at the garlic plant. “The garlic doesn’t grow up top?”

“No honey.”

“I thought it would be a little garlic tree with it growing off of. . . the. . .umm. . . leaves.”

“No honey. I’m sorry.”

“I got stitched up.”

I have wanted to walk one since 1999, (ain’t no way I’m running with my breasts. I’d poke my eye out.) but I have always made excuses about finding the time to train.

Mel was sweet and said that if he could do it, anyone can– which I don’t believe. It takes months of commitment and not everyone has that in them.

Anyway, I really want to do it. Nearly ten years of saying I wanna and I need to make it a I am.

So I am trying to get a place on my own because the charity I would want to run for was not awarded any running slots.

Annoying.

Might have to go for the one in LA.

Two years ago I started my new job at my current employer that those of you that can read between my not very obscure lines know where it is.

One year ago I was getting pissed in the pub.

What am I doing this year? I’m staying away from the pub for one. I’ve had a few too many hours/days spent in one recently.

I have an idea for a play actually. I think tonight I’m going to bugger off and hide myself away and try to remember who I used to be.

People that carry big fuck off umbrellas that a Catholic family of twelve can fit under should have their arms and legs ripped off and then be beaten to death with them.