Long borders

A bit washed out and tired. Is that me? Or the shot of the Regent’s Park long border?

Me.  How tired? I tried to give this blog post the tile ‘Herbaceous’ and could only manage the spelling ‘Herrbaceauous’.

I was expecting spell checker to reach out and give me a slap rather than just glaringly send this title red.

Knackered. And kept cruelly away from gardening.

In chronological order:

The London house was broken into while we were away.

The burglar alarm wasn’t connected to the alarm company

The house was ransacked.

The police were too busy to turn up.

But they did a nice line in offering victim counselling services after the fact. ‘If you have been affected.’

Affected? We were too busy dealing with the faff! The phone calls, the appointments. I could bore more than myself just listing all the things it has taken this week to return to normal. And I still haven’t cleaned all the police forensic services fingerprint testing powder off most surfaces.

Add a nice layer of painting, plastering, sanding, and repainting the little apartment we need to rent out. And a heatwave. And you can perhaps understand why I have been a touch distracted.

These photos were my only outdoor adventure this week.  I staggered back from the dentist (drooling lightly from the general anaesthetic) through the park on my way to meet the marvellous cleaning company at the flat.

The cypress trees in the long alley all look dead.  The Beast from the East, snow and cold in late spring seems to have done the deed.

Oh, and I popped into the Conran shop to photograph the gorgeous garden display.

A blissful dream of green. Before heading back to the paints.

It’s all done. If I can do a few more days admin work (the Faff) then I might reward myself with three days in the allotment later this week. The parched weeds are calling me.