The Red Season

I'm sorry - I'm being very repetitive with my photos, but I've been a tad restricted in my activities right now and beside, I like this view of my fat red azalea (on the right) with my neighbours' two clashing different reds in the garden to the left. I took this out of the window after a back-destroying session of weeding that path; the pebbles have a supposedly weed-proof liner under them but it's a snare and a delusion; the hardier weeds bore their way through it and the lesser ones find some foothold on top of it and the result is a neglected-looking garden such as an old person might have - the kind that gives rise to pitying comments from passers-by: "she kept it lovely but she's not up to it now ...". You know the kind of thing. Anyway, I did it - started off bending as if I was back at Pilates and ended up sitting on my behind on the flags and weeding to either side, then shuffling further up and doing the next bit.

Apart from that, I've been to choir tonight where I sang till my voice started dying. Afterwards, we stood outside the hall chatting to a soprano while a blackbird serenaded us in the gloaming; the one I recorded this morning had been adding a counterpoint from our holly tree, but since I started to write this they have fallen silent and it's almost dark. 

I've spent the day wondering how my far-travelled son is coping without his luggage - he made it to Hanoi, but his case didn't keep up. The other son, meanwhile, has overseen the revamp of The Scotsman's layout, which I have to say looks rather splendid. But I'm needing to switch off now and eat ...

You know what!