Another first

The Backs

Looking back at this lovely view from O's room for the last time.

Walking back from the Senate House

after the degree ceremony.

Lying back on the grass in Nevile's Court.

(Strictly forbidden at any other time.)

The Backs seen from the Wren Library.

And he'll be back next year!

Light show

The sun will set at 311º northwest this evening at 9.22 pm.

That means that for a few short days

I get to take pictures

of my paperweights

on the bookshelf

in the darkest room in the house.

I am less inclined to find photo opportunities

at 4.43 am when the sun rises at 49º northeast.

Heather was up at 5 am and washing up.

Here's what she saw.

The accidental bouquet

Fennel, nepeta and salvia

being given a late and rather

half-hearted Chelsea chop.

Shock horreur

Roses

and peonies

at Sissinghurst.

So far

so lovely.

We even came up with a similar rose

  

and Christophii allium combo.

Theirs above.

Mine below.

 But what I didn't expect 

was that we both had

identical Mullein moth caterpillars

chomping away on our verbascums.

 A French visitor pointed them out to us

and we had a difficult conversation because I could only

guess at papillon de nuit for moth

which she  seemed not to understand,

but which turns out to be correct.

I was however able to impress her with

'Il reste sous la terre pendant cinq ans.'

accompanied by vigorous burrowing actions.

Vita Sackville-West spoke fluent French

(handy for when she eloped to France with Violet Trefusis.)

 I don't know if any French visitors made it to Sissinghurst Castle 

when it opened for just a single weekend each year in 1938

but I do know that 3000 French prisoners

were incarcerated there during the Seven Years War from 1756 to 1763.

They called Sissinghurst 'Chateau de Sissinghurst' and the name stuck.

At last

But will it last?

Where is that Azores High when you need it?

Will I have to go back to Kondo-ing my Dry Goods?

Kondo-ing walk of shame

As it's not warm enough to sit outside 

with a nice glass of something chilled,

I have been Kondo-ing the pantry this evening.

It goes without saying that I had many packets and jars

 of years out of date pasta,

 mystery grains, pulses,

a huge bottle of Monin ginger syrup,

stale ground rice, semolina, 

flax seeds, millet, hemp,

 Smash dried potato,

mung beans, moong dal, popping corn,

aduki beans, black eyed beans,

Horlicks,  drinking chocolate, and fancy herb teas,

but what really shocked me was the seven,

 SEVEN

different types of sugar, cluttering up the shelves.

Granulated.

Caster.

Golden caster.

Muscovado.

Icing.

Demerara.

Soft light brown.

Rainbow crystals.

No wait,

That's eight.

EIGHT 

different types of sugar, cluttering up the shelves.

The only one I haven't got is cubes.

Surely I don't need all those?

Well of course, granulated for

my brother's and builders' tea,

caster for light sponge cakes and meringues,

golden caster because Nigel Slater said so,

Muscovado for rich fruit cakes,

icing, for icing,

Demerara for putting on top of cakes

because Nigel Slater said so,

soft light brown for brownies,

and rainbow crystals for. . .

old times sake, because my parents used to put it out on the

coffee tray if we had visitors

and I wanted to amuse the children with it.

This isn't going well.

The only one that didn't spark joy was Muscovado

because it had gone rock hard.

You can tell I am a child of the fifties,

 born just as sugar came off rationing.

Must I stop eating cake?

Summer thyme

Or so I thought when I took this picture.

Has anyone else put the heating back on in the evening?

Let your tension melt away

The best online relaxation video I have ever seen.
I am working it into my daily meditation routine
straight after the early morning warm lemon juice (see recipe below).

Squeeze a lemon into a mug. Add warm, not hot, warm, filtered water. Drink slowly. Try not to wince, it makes cruel wrinkles on your face and you will not feel serene.

Garden view envy

Shall we take a closer look?

How inviting is that?

And just out of shot,

quite nice horses.

I'm not mad about horses.

My sister was and I used to join in with games

involving homemade hobby horses.

They were made from a bamboo cane and a stuffed sock

with a woollen mane.

We called them Bracken and Briar.

Real ones had a habit of either stopping and refusing to budge,

head down in a grassy verge,

or throwing me off.

 Tania loves horses.

I'm not sure that she comes here,

but just in case she does . . .

Chilli

for June.