Gardening: or, the Predatory Older Woman

Have been considerably cheered by arrival of blond, tanned, shirtless, dreadlocked, 20-something gardener. R certainly knows how to make me feel at home.

What a shame he ran away before I could give him his money ...

Actually, this was mainly nice for two reasons. One is the obvious one about watching other people work. The other is the smell of new-mown grass. It's decades since I've had a garden I could call my own.

I shall sit in it, and read, and write. Even if the cats are nervous of this Outdoors thing.