Out of whack

One of those days where nothing quite gelled. Where it all felt out of whack.  Grief has its own thunderstorms. Bone dry tinder sparked by lightning into an explosive BBOOOOMM. So J went off to London to get her hair done and get funerary clothes while I tried to work out where to put all those little plants into an oversubscribed veg garden. And find a pair of shorts.

I ended up interplanting the sweetcorn with the onions and shallotes - thinking - 'we can pull the onions as earlies and let the sweetcorn shoot (lol) away'.

Whilst hoping against hope that Andy Murray would slay the Joker. And then these two 'spitfires' starting churring through the blue sky like big old motorbikes.

I extricated myself from the onions and ran for the camera. It was all distant shots of a pretend dogfight - they don't usually come in twos (the extra shot) and they don't usually let the engines rip - but I'd got the settings all wrong what with muddy fingers and aching  hamstrings. In the end the shadow railings on the steps seemed to sum up my state of mind.

Funeral for Jean is on Tuesday.

Sorry for lateness in replies and acknowledgements/thanks.