I rediscovered this song by dint of the elevator music type radio station at work. The fact that it was popular a single year after The One was born no longer makes me feel ancient.
You have to listen to it to make any sense of the rest of this post. I was so enraptured by it that I've been unable to post for two weeks. Honest.
The excitement we felt when I wrote my last post proved to be unfounded. Excited because of the imminent storm, we took refuge in the car with the dogs and waited for the light show and the watersports. Lightning there was, but sadly the rain petered out and there was a spectacular anticlimax.
Check out Zombie Dog in the back seat.
I cooked an oxtail stew to calm our frayed nerves.
Bare white oxen ass-bones were all that remained.
The beans have only just started flowering so I'd used irradiated supermarket ones.
Judging by the number of flowers our own beans are producing, though, we are expecting a bumper crop.
Late on Thursday evening The One e-mailed a very diplomatic letter to Wendy, my boss, to ask if I could come home earlier at night. On Friday I had a meeting with her to discuss the letter.
The building where my work is located has been sold and the new owners are breaking and building all around us. On Monday we all had to wear ear plugs made out of toilet paper to block out the noise produced by an industrial diesel-powered jackhammer pounding at the outside wall. In the process they managed to stuff up the single aircon we have.
Work has literally been hell.
My sole defence against all these insane assaults on my sanity is to simply grab the camera on Sunday mornings and to shoot hundreds of images of the garden upon which I lavish so much time, effort and water.
This is tangible evidence that I am still in the present and that life continues, regardless of my own little foibles.
Written by I