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In ‘The Card Case’, I spoke of the client who had no money to pay my fee, but brought me the occasional small gift, all of which I have treasured for almost 30 years. I am not a science fiction fan, so I have not read many of his paperback books. One of these is Poul Anderson’s ‘The Makeshift Rocket’. I finished this short novel this morning. It was a surprisingly entertaining work. Light-hearted, with a touch of dry humour, once I had ceased trying to decipher the author’s attempts at reproducing Danish and Irish spoken English, I enjoyed the book.
Afterwards I photographed garden views from upstairs windows and from the stable doorway.
Having decided to reduce the codeine element in my pain relief, I struggled a bit today. On the other hand it may have been the amount of walking on uneven terrain I undertook yesterday. Consequently I spent the afternoon alternately dozing over snatches of World Cup football and having brief forays into the garden.
A new day lily has forced its way through the soil to join the marigolds beside the greenhouse.
Geranium palmatums lead us past more day lilies in the Palm Bed to the eucalyptus and beyond.
Urns, like this stone one Jackie has planted up at the end of the Brick Path,
and the pottery one standing on the filled in well, counteract what she call “The June Gap”, when there is not normally much colour around.
The hanging baskets on the kitchen wall and the two clematises in pots on the corner serve the same purpose.
Rose Ballerina dances in the bed beside the entrance to the Rose Garden,
where such as Rosa Gallica and Mama Mia continue to splash their colour.
Hydrangea Swinging Sixties is another plant in a pot,
opposite which Linaria and Valerian vie for space in the Oval Bed.
My final trip up the garden was via the Phantom Path to join Jackie taking a break on the decking. There I passed the Cryptomeria Bed with its clematis, geranium palmatums, and hot lips; a penstemon in Margery’s Bed; a planted pot on the corner of the Gazebo Path; and Florence sculpture with her basket of bacopa.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s delicious chicken jalfrezi and splendid special fried rice. She drank Hoegaarden and I didn’t.