I was going to post about how M came home last night and in a fit of good temper declared that he would mind PartyPie all day Saturday and that I could have the day to Do What I Liked. The world again blossomed before me. Then, this morning, when his good temper had been struck down by cheap red wine, how he said he would mind PartyPie ‘when we went out somewhere’ and I hauled him up until his socks hit his earlobes and explained quite clearly that this was not going to be the case.
Then I was going to post about how, when he does mind the baby, the Trailer suddenly becomes like a modern day illustrative example of the bombing of Dresden. When M minds PartyPie, he Looks After HER (in CAPITAL LETTERS) and then he gets her to SLEEP (if anyone recalls the illustrations by Quentin Blake to the Roald Dahl story The BFG this is what M looks like as he semi jogs around the interior of the trailer trying to make Zoe doze off) and then HE SITS ON THE COUCH with complete disregard for the mayhem he has let accumulate – the dishes, the nappies, the washing, the toys, the socks – and gets down to his New Important Business. The Internet. Or, more specifically, his blog. I am not sure why he, and two of my very good male friends have all decided to start blogging in the last little while (the state of fatherhood and impending fatherhood).
It was when I told M that I had taken a photograph this morning, before he started baby wrangling, and then an ‘after shot’ later this afternoon and that I was going to post them on the internet that the look on his face made me laugh and laugh. So instead of giving further details of what I politely call his manly inability to multi-task (and impolitely call Homer Simpson) I will instead say that I had a lovely morning planting four crates with seedlings. I collected masses of horse borry from the paddock and planted coriander, rosemary, lemon thyme, camomile, curry, spinach, nasturtiums, lobelia, snow peas, rocket and oregano.
I seem to get the gardening urge at the same time each year – I discover my old daffodil bulbs just as they’re starting to shoot. So I found a few hanging around as usual, and shoved them into some pots. I also gave some very, very overdue tlc to my surviving pot plants – giving them some manure and a trim around the edges. I do really like to have our porch full of plants, but I was too slack (and too whalelike, and then too tired) by the last month or two of summer, and then in winter nothing gets enough sun. So I have done away with my hanging baskets and have moved all my pots down on to the ground outside.
I am starting to create a theory that ties in with my coat hanger attitude – I would rather have wooden or granny-upholstered coat hangers or none. Hanging baskets? I am getting sick of the plastic skanky ones I have harvested from hard rubbish and I think it’s time to get a little more classy. Of course, this is coming from someone who has just planted a small garden in some old plastic crates, so I think I’m getting a bit above my station. I will post a pic of my gardenly endeavours if the sun deigns to come out tomorrow.