Bliss

I'm sitting in the garden with my laptop , wirelessly connected to the internet with one labrador draped across my feet and the other sitting with his head in my lap, watching me type.

A solitary blackbird is trying to out-trill a thrush and the hum of the lawnmower in the front garden indicates that hubby has moved on from the side of the house to the front with his lawnmower. I breath in the fresh smell of cut grass.

I'll just cut out the scene about neatly trimmed borders, weed-free perfect lawns, newly planted hanging baskets and the inviting cedarwood summer-house because the reality is that the borders need seriously weeding, there is a pile of rubble in the corner of the garden waiting for a skip and the cedarwood summer-house is really a soon-to-be-cleared-of-junk greenhouse ready for the annual tomato and cucumber planting ritual.

I'm just about to plug myself into my MP3 player and write my homework piece for Cloud-line. Daughter-in-law-to-be is in the kitchen, making us all sandwiches for lunch (she needs to practise!)

The lawnmower's stopped and Rob's just appeared to put it away and fetch the strimmer.

'Are you writing another story?' he asks.

'Umm - sort of,' I reply.

'Well, if you are, then I'll leave you in peace. Do you want a cuppa?'

Smug giggle behind hand. My little short story success has worked absolute wonders in more ways than one!


Well!! We have just built an extension - what do you expect? We can't all have perfect gardens!