The National Guard have not arrived but a diagnosis via a very smart cyclist on Twitter has and it is that illy-something-band problem, apparently caused by weak hips or tight hamstrings. I did overshoot a back handspring the other night on the tramp, but suspect it’s neither weak hips but crouching down for too long in the less than spacious confines of wee greenhouse that did it.

I am back reading Ernest Becker again, even though The Botany of Desire is quite fascinating.

Some good news, the oh so tentative, we’re losing him, we’re losing him arugula plant has survived and established a few new leaves. I ate one — pure spicy Rocket! But in thoroughly demoralizing news 100 percent mortality on my transplants. Something is up, I am not growing them long enough or hardy enough. By the time I carried them 2 blocks to the garden they’d expired. Now with peg leg it will be difficult to do the necessary coaxing and examination to see if there’s any potentional for a ressurrection.

There’s nothing for it I shall have to call the mammy in another timezone for explanation. She’ll have some invocation for me.