I received two separate compliments and two criticisms on my shelves today. The criticisms were of the in home variety, where democracy prevails since the critic helped me build them.  We respect each others difference of opinion on shelves and agree on comedy and nail polish. One person said I should be proud. As instructed I am proud of my dementing to build shelves. 100 per cent home made dementing.

Two blokes at the garden were digging out their plot to sow clover crops before they plant winter crops. V impressed by this dedication to nitrogen. The woman opposite showed us the buds on her brussels. I’d never seen them grown and found them v endearing. The inter communing of my fava beans and regular old skinny green beens has reached a high and agreeable point. I took a bulky bunch in my pocket which was like wearing an extra leg. My gardening assistant today insisted I multitask and play badminton as we walked. Without a racquet my job was to lob and catch the shuttlecock (birdy?) but with a pocket of beans and various accoutrements this req’d dives. It was great to have help with the watering until an accident with the hose occurred it hopped up out of the dustbin and in retrieving it my small male aimed it, accidentally, at me and drenched. It wasn’t such a bad day for it. Kind of like the cold baths at Lourdes, a rustle, a twitch and you’re dry.

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I am finishing up this Jane Rule novel and contemplating whether it could be considered a document of social history or some kind of recording of it. Why? you may ask. And why not, I may answer.