Flowers by the roadside.
Crawling into bed at 18:20 because there is nothing else I feel like doing in the flat, after I ate dinner, put my dry clothes and drying rack away, washed and dried the pots, utensils and cutlery. Picked up two bags of Main Crop potatoes to get into the ground shortly - Desirée and Maris Pipers - from Wilko's around four and negotiated the meaninglessness on the streets between Albion Street and Lovell Park. Sirens outside the flat, tailbacks along Lincoln Green Road, etc, a sullen grey sky and noise from the inhabitants around me and from the dicky lift. It's possible to get used to anything? At 18:30 I am going to meditate... ... I don't feel lonely lied on my own listening to the noises around the flat, and I never feel alone when I am walking in the countryside. Yesterday the singing of birds (and now they start to permeate and interject with the motor vehicle drone) and the bright roadside blooms made me joyous. *** To live too long makes us forget the mea...