Evening falls

The labours continue: six hours at playscheme and commuting time, then up to four hours in the garden when I get home. I listen to podcasts while I strip 'n' snip. Even those are beginning to repeat themselves, repeat themselves.

Another trip to the tip is booked for tomorrow morning. I'll be up at sparrow's fart to help load the car. Already I sense we have more than an estate carload's worth, and that's only since Tuesday. A friend came round to drop something off, and was suitably dumbfounded by the changes. That was gratifying, because I don't even see them anymore. What I've learned today is that old ivy smells horrible. Mouldy, I think. (I'm talking about the old Ivy that grows on fence and trees, not a neighbour or anyone).

CleanSteve cooked supper. Gluten free fish fingers, new potatoes and salad and broccoli. I was so grateful, because I still had to pack up my stall goods for CS to take to the market hall tomorrow evening. I'll be working with the little boys in my private childminding job tomorrow, so I'll meet him there when that finishes.

And now, magically, it's already half past eleven. How did that happen? I ask myself.

Picture shows progress made on the patio today. I grubbed out the remaining brambles and some of the ivy today, and snipped back some of the trees slightly. Also emptied a giant pot that we want to replant. The patio slabs used to be a beautiful golden sand colour. Perhaps, if we can remove the facade of a decade of algae, they will shine again.