Delivered…

Our first radish

The washing machine arrived at 7.30am and the delivery guys plopped it in the garden and ran. Well it seemed like it anyway, leaving us with a neatly packaged machine we somehow need to get into the kitchen. We are staying at home largely because neither of us are the fittest adults, myself because of an autoimmune condition my doctor described as not in the vulnerable group. I don’t really understand the category but we can’t get home delivery of food either. I have a blue badge and the security guy said I could show that to avoid queuing at the supermarket (again I would feel weird going to the front) but it might help with the fatigue I have after a weekly shop on my own.

Digging up the garden is slipping to the bottom of my desirable tasks. We have a huge sack they delivered our topsoil in and I have refilled with garden waste. It is plonked on the black fabric I put down to kill the grass. But it (the area being slabbed) still needs digging and levelling before slabs can be laid. And the first brown bin needs to be emptied today… Oh I wish I was fitter and stronger but I still don’t have the fitness I had in October…

I like the new plants we got delivered but it’s anyone’s guess whether a week in the postal system will affect their likelihood of flourishing in the garden. Again strange times means we are up against challenges when we try new things. Garden centres have been mobbed if you believe the press, but we like our gardens in Blighty! Picking up some compost today from the garden society shop. Wish they rented diggers!

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