Apple blossom

(Cheat alert: I took this photo on Saturday. It's not very focussed).

1st May, but I saw no Morris dancers. I did not wash my face in the dew on Arthur's seat. I did not even pop  into the woods behind the house for some Beltaine rituals. I simply got up and went to work. When did I stop dancing? 


Work went as usual. One good thing about working almost full time is that I'm not stressed about not getting anything done. It doesn't mean I get any more done. Left work.on time, picked up a few things at the shops, walked home. 

Steve was out, setting up a polling station. He will be presiding officer at a station in Gloucester tomorrow, where they are holding two local elections. I made supper (the last of the chicken, thank goodness!) and chilled out for a bit before my Mindfulness zoom. 

That has now finished, and Steve's come home bearing two enormous ballot boxes. He has to keep them at home overnight to prevent them being tampered with. I'm disappointed that they're made of plastic, not metal. On the other hand, I'm relieved that we don't still have our previous cat, Bomble, as he felt he he had to spray every foreign object that entered the house. If we so much as moved a plant pot in the garden, he'd have to mark it immediately. 

Now I'm watching a documentary about Cecil Parkinson, the Tory party chairman who got his secretary, Sarah Keays, pregnant in 1983. This was a massive scandal at the time, and Cecil Parkinson resigned. Watching it reminds me of the cracked yellow linoleum on the floor in my first student flat in Blackfriars street, Edinburgh. Opposite the night shelter and round the corner from the morgue, life was never dull there.