It’s slightly late but its Rose and Thorn time. So as it was my birthday week this week (43 and it didn’t even hurt), I’m going to say that the Rose was not just my birthday but getting older. Considering how horrible I was for the whole year of turning 39 until the big 4.0. dawned, it has to be said that the forties are the best. If you think you’re having a good time in your 20s and 30s, you haven’t seen anything yet. You are far more secure in your own skin, have a bit more cash to do stuff and have completely run out of fucks to give, my account is zero, so it’s a really free time. Imagine what the 50s will be like. I dread to think.
With the week starting off with festivities in the Cotswolds and a dash of work in the middle, we got to the weekend. The sun was beating down and I had no excuses not to get cracking on some gardening and here is the thorn…literally. I’m trying, really I am, but it’s not exciting me yet. I’ve not long been in my house and the garden has been left to its own devices so I know I’m doing the rubbish bit of weeding and clearing. But honestly, you slave away for hours, feel virtuous, go back to the house for a drink and there is a tiny patch of cleared ground practically invisible to the naked eye. OK rant over, I am expecting the finished version to be in the Rose one of these weeks or I’ll sue.