Apples for Apples

I’m not really a watch person. I have maybe three that I don’t really wear. Many years ago spotting on the wrist of a very elegant lady the most unusual watch I’d ever seen, it was exquisite, very dainty, very expensive looking and asked if I could try it on it was so lovely. Now recalling back I remember that I found it odd she referred to it by what I naively at that time thought was the name of the chap that had bought her it. What a dick I was! A few years ago a client came in with her sister and had the same style watch. It was a Georg Jenson. The prices range for a non watch kind of person to a maybe possible doable to jeez that much for a watch! the price of the watch I coveted no amount of hint dropping was I going to find it under the tree, even for a joint birthday and Christmas present. 

A couple of years ago under the tree from OH was a watch, an Apple Watch. I’m pretty sure J had some “fluence” on this gift as I think if you broke him in half like a stick of rock he’d have Apple running through him. Not wanting to seem like an ungrateful twat I embraced the watch even upgrading my mobile to pair with it. See I WAS committed. At first the novelty of being able to take a call, you do look a bit like a bodyguard talking into your watch, answering the delivery driver at your door whilst at work and paying for items in the shop was rather cool but then I started to find it intrusive, sometimes making me jump, seeing others in meeting getting a notification on there watch is like seeing some one having an involuntary spasm both disconcerting and distracting and to be honest I’m really not that techy. The watch lay languishing in a drawer.

Last week I had a notion to sell it so put it on a few selling sites. Unusually for me I had the box and all the bits and bobs which were in immaculate condition. Seemingly not one sniff of interest then a message in messenger. The offer of over full asking price to include shipping pricked up my bullshit antenna. Checking out the made up name profile my response was decline. Then another message in messenger from Dougie in the US who wanted it for his girlfriend who was in the UK Dougie’s profile showed a lovely photo of him with what looked like his lovely little wife who were surely living in some retirement complex. It also begged the question of how this had come on his radar from a selling site in Yorkshire UK, another decline I’m afraid Dougie. Another message from a local lady, ah that’s more like it. We arranged to rendezvous at a petrol station half way the next day. Pulling up in the petrol station I checked out the lady in the car next to mine. She got out of the car to ask if I knew her my reply that I was meeting someone there that I didn’t know but I was sure it wasn’t her sounded all kinds of wrong. Another lady pulled in and it was my watch lady. She checked it out paid me cash and other than a couple of messages to say she couldn’t pair it, she was about as techy as me, I got the teen on to it and we were sorted.

Arriving home on Friday after work and a quick nip up to the allotment, OH had been up there most of the day, was a very pleasant looking lady with a girl around fourteen talking into the Ring. It was quite comical as T is connected to it as well as the OH so they were both remotely trying establish what she wanted. It turned out her daughter had lost her Apple Watch she thought in the field near me but the location was showing it at my address. Clearly it couldn’t possibly be at mine but I felt uncomfortable at the thought of her thinking it was and then the battery died. The lady and her daughter lived a few villages away so I said I would put it on our village page. It was a long shot with little expectation of her having it returned. Sunday morning OH had taken the dog out on the field and came back with a note that had been taped on the field entrance gate. Watch found on 18.06.21 call this number. It was the girls watch! I was so relieved it had been found as I could never have proved it wasn’t at the location showing on it.

An Apple for an Apple and a little fellow faith restoration.

Sha x

Keeping Up Appearances

It seems to me that most women my age have a signature look, a style. If you were on a shopping trip you could pick something up and say that is so such a person. They seem to have their shit together, I'm not talking ALL their shit. Women my age have more than likely gone through lots and lots of THAT shit and have learnt to handle it in a better way with the benefit of wisdom that age brings and choosing the battles to fight or do a "Frozen" and just let it go, but in terms of how they choose to  present themselves to the world. Me, well I seem to have gone from having quite an interest in getting dolled up and clothes buying to actually not giving a shit. I struggle year on year with the transition from winter to spring. My love of "loungewear" has intensified over the last year. I see other women in gorgeous loungewear looking casually stunning whilst mine will have bleach splatters on part of it or it is none coordinating. The minute I'm home I step out of my uniform, bra off, jump in the bath snd on goes a clean sorry description of loungewear.

I bought some shorts the other week in preparation for the good weather. They were neither the best looking shorts or skirt not a skort and I realised I looked like something out of a Dawn French comedy sketch. You see I have reverse body dysmorphia, I think I look alright until I see a below the head shot of a photograph of me and realise I’m fat. The shorts weren’t a good look. Oh how I wish I was one of those women who in the warmer months don a pair of shorts and t shirt and look amazing. 

The shed for the allotment had been collected and as J was up to help his dad they decided to put it up on Friday. There was a lot of effing and jeffing. J asking how much I’d paid for it as it was a bit worse for wear. I knew OH could sort it and he refused point blank J’s offer of a new one. His words were if I had 10k in my arse pocket nobody is paying £250 for a new shed for the allotment. They made it good and it is kind of fit for purpose.

As the weather is now quite good I needed to decide what my lottie attire would be. Early in the year of acquiring the allotment I could wear any shit but I think I needed lottie summer clothes. OH checked his wardrobe for shirts and shorts. I now resemble an episode of Some Mother’s Do Have Em but they serve a purpose. I also have come to the conclusion that flip flops don’t cut it a sturdy foot support is required. I have my gear.

On Sunday the shed was painted and not unlike me it is a bit shabby around the edges, weather worn and needs a little bit of support here and there, but a lick of paint and it’s scrubbed up well.

The shed represents a little bit of my space and as far as I’m concerned unlike me is keeping up appearances.

Sha x

Time for the Big Guns And A Slam Dunk

Life up at Lottie has been hard work. We have four raised beds and two other beds all planted and all seem to be coming on nicely. The rest of the allotment was waist high in grass and weeds with extremely uneven ground. I now know why sturdy boots are worn to support the ankles, this terrain has made mine feel like I’ve done ten rounds with Tyson Fury, the terrain has knocked the stuffing out of them. I had arranged to collect the shed on Sunday and it became clear there was no way we could tackle this manually, especially the area that needed to be levelled and flagged where the shed is going. We needed to strim and rotavate the rest and seemed more than a little daunting. 

A call to arms was put out on Facebook and a friend who is an established allotment owner came up trumps with a petrol strimmer we could borrow. I went to collect it from her on Saturday morning at her allotment and had immediate allotment envy, she even has chickens which we’re not allowed to have. Her fella kindly showed me how it worked, gave me petrol and extra wire. I kind of nodded some understanding hoping to god OH was a little more strimmer savvy, he is. He set to on Saturday afternoon and uncovered our plot which yes is uneven but in my mind a little gem. Where I was once worried about the trees, we’ve cut back all the brambles that obscured the fence and the trees give a really dappled shade the perfect place to put the shed. There is a little robin that bobs in and out of that part and I spotted a squirrel in the trees yesterday. It feels like a protective backdrop to my plot teeming with wildlife. I also love watching the bees busying themselves from flower to flower. 

Another of my mam’s sayings is “If you get your heads together you could make a wooden hut”. I’m not entirely sure what it means but I get the gist of it. The more time spent up at the allotment the more allegiances and alliances are formed, it really is becoming a little community. Tools and equipment are shared and on our Facebook group anything on selling sites that we may think is useful to someone is posted on there. It’s not always what you know but who you know and one of the plot owners has connections. It was time to bring in the big guns with some kit and physically. We could collectively get a rotavator for twenty four hours at a good price split between who ever utilised it, I was definitely in on that one. 

I ended up with the job of allocating time slots and collecting the money. Two of the guys were responsible for of the booking and delivery of the mean machine. Along with a serious piece of kit arriving there were some seriously rufty  tufty guys turned up to tackle the mean machine and one of the guys on hand to show them how to operate it. I did have a little go but it was really hard work and was very grateful for my plot being done by one of the guys. It’s been a hive of activity up there today and I’ve spent most of my day there, it’s been a glorious day weather wise and to watch everyone mucking in and helping one another has been heartwarming to see.

Being up at the allotment is for me a new passion. I can’t wait to get my shed up and days like today are reminiscent of childhood days, those halcyon days of long hot summers, making daisy chains, buttercups under our chins and just being out in sunshine and nature before the health and safety of slathering in sun cream and a floppy hat before you could possibly enter out in the world. I may not be doing the daisy chains but the vibe is the same. Coming home that nice weary feeling, hungry, a little sun caught and ready for a bath but feeling extremely happy.

The big guns came out and it was a slam dunk in more ways than one.

Sha x

The Lost Garden

Many years ago I think T was around 13 and A was 8 years old, on one of the selling sites I happened upon a Wendy house, quite a large one that needed collection. As with most of my "projects" I imply to my OH that he doesn't need to get involved, I'll sort it, which up to a point I do but then it comes to the "blue" part of any job and he knows he's going to get roped in. This was no exception and he duly constructed it. The kids have had some use out of it, the occasional sleepover in there but over the years it became a bit of a dumping ground a little battered and unloved and does take up quite a big space in the garden.

I'm very fortunate to have two areas of garden, my serene, green and grassed part with a pagoda and sitting area. The lights twinkle in the pagoda on an evening and strategically placed lights around the garden highlight the shrubs and OH's addition of a statue that casts its shadow wide. In here are one of my favourite plants which I was delighted to be gifted from my DIL's aunt. Another plant gifted from a family and now given the name of their loved one.  It gives me a lot of pleasure sitting there watching the birds especially the robin's, robin's are brave little souls and take no shit. I also liked to see the little field mouse I named Stuart Little he however has been usurped by Ratatouille which is another story. This part of the garden is very private it doesn't back on to anyone else's garden and gets the sun from first thing in the morning until early evening.

The other part of the garden which gets the sun from most of the afternoon until sundown was initially going to have a bit of a Mediterranean feel with decking, potted plants, gravel and a water feature the ideal place to eat out in the evening. When J & K and now the fur grandchild came to stay with us we've always felt crap that they've had to endure various sofa beds or blow up beds downstairs, no peace and no privacy. Feeling that it would be nice for them to have their own space OH came up with a plan. To say there was somewhat of a huge disparity in his vision and my imagination would be an understatement. I started looking online at the "outdoor living space" options but he had other idea's, he was going to build it himself. Wood, chip board, insulating materials were delivered and covered to keep from getting damp. This truly was a "blue" job and I looked forward to the time of the "pink" jobs of making it look pretty and homely. Now I do have faith on my OH even at times when I don't share his vision, he usually comes up trumps and often surpasses my expectations, the idea of linking it to the Wendy House though I just couldn't conjure in my mind at all.  At times you have the money and not the time, others you have the time but not the money so progress has been slow, it was half erected. On the fridge some times I put a list of things I'd like to happen in that year, you know a kind of visual reminder, a manifestation, if it's on that list I need to make it happen and satisfaction when you've ticked something off that list.

Four fucking years later this is STILL on the list and I am sick to the back teeth of looking out from my dining room table at Steptoe's yard. I peg my washing out there, go to the garage and let the dog out. On occasions I've said should we tidy things up a little which really meant we've moved a pile of shite from one place to another. The Wendy house became even more forlorn as it was like  a Bear Grylls challenge, all danger and peril surrounding it. One dare not go out there in flip flops unless a trip to A&E for a tetanus was your preferred option of  spending an afternoon. Last year we decided to use the decommissioned recycling boxes to grow vegetables, probably where the idea came for the allotment. This did not enhance the look of this part of the garden. Over the last few months OH has made some planters potted them up and put the potted bamboo at the front of the house, we got a brand new door, oh how I hated the green one we had, and it looks really pretty out front. So it's a bit top show, fur coat and no knickers as the back part looks like a shithole. When anyone visited I'd steer them from seeing the back garden into my little haven bit or say smiling OH has a project going on. Failing that I'd just draw the curtains.

Many conversations with OH and showing him Instagram accounts of peoples outdoor seating area's fell on deaf ears, he can be quite determined *stubborn*. This weekend there was a breakthrough J & K were up for the weekend. As T moved out last year they are able to sleep in a double bed in a bedroom so it now kind of negates the need for the outdoor room. I don't know what J said to his dad but the idea for the outdoor room has been put to bed. Whoop, whoop thank you J. I got on a selling site and put the Wendy house on there free to anyone who would dismantle and collect. A lot of the wood can be repurposed up at the allotment, leaving not too much crap to be got rid of which J is going to come up and help with next week. I have a week off work so can really get stuck in too.

My vision of this area may not be the IG version in my head and it's not now going to be the OH's version either but within the next few weeks it will be a version of a garden that we can actually sit out in, have a meal out there, and enjoy the sun going down.

The lost garden will be no more.

Sha x