Its the first nice day in willenhall,West Mid UK, not very hot but warm enough to spend a few hours in the garden, mainly looking at what I might do this year than actually doing anything.
My garden isn’t very big, but big enough now that I am nearly eghty one, gone are the dreams of having a garden that is so long that I could have a few chickens running around. Those really stupid words ;accepting reality; have replaced the word ‘dream.’
The acers have started to sprout minuscule leaves, the blackbirds are looking for anything that is suitable for nest building, and if something is to large they attack it with there beaks until it breaks apart.
Saturday I went to Birmingham City Centre with my son- in -law, daughter, and grandaughter Daisy who is fifteen. We went in different directions and then met for a coffee in Pret but the two girls only had water. I asked Daisy why and she said it is better for their complextions than coffee.
I told her a story about my first job at an engineering factory by Spaghetti junction. I was sixteen and worked by Spike a young lad of eighteen. I never knew what his real name was and I don’t think anyone else did either, but he got the nick name because his short black hair was like bristles if you put your hand on it.
But it was his face that everyone looked at when they met him for the first time because it was covered with the most painful looking acne. he sure must have drunk a lot of coffee.
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