I've barely been outside for the last week and a half, let alone done any gardening. I've a sprained ankle, you see. it was a bee related accident. The little blighters fly into my conservatory and have trouble getting out. I leave windows and doors open, but still they circle the room getting increasingly frustrated, before flying up to the roof and flinging themselves against it. The roof's opaque glass, so they manically launch themselves at it again and again until either (a) I rescue them or (b) they expire. Keen to do my bit to help I regularly clamber up a set of household steps and trap them in a glass so they can be set free to carry on pollinating.
Only last time I did this I kinda missed my footing and - oooff! - landed awkwardly. My right ankle, never the most slender of things, puffed up like I'd got half a grapefruit stuck on its side. For at least a week I was reduced to hopping around like Long John Silver without the wooden leg. I'm just about able to sloooowly hobble now, and even managed to fetch some milk and (purely medicinal, you understand) jaffa cakes from the Co-op today. But gardening? Nah. Sadly that's on hold, along with yoga, Pilates, cycling and wearing proper shoes as my right foot's still swollen and bruised.
Oh well, I've just received Suttons 2018 catalogue in the post, so I'll content myself with lazing about making lists of more flowers I want to grow, and watching lots of cheesy telly.
Hope you're fit and well. Here's to a healthy September.
Moved from a garden-less city flat in the South West to a Yorkshire village in 2016. I now have a garden ... of sorts.