![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
he's just a naughty boy
May. 4th, 2009 04:10 pmFirstly, points to the edited highlights of the True Blood trailer, featuring the sexy boy after too much jam doughnut. Mmmmm....doughnuts....
And I ended up quoting the Holy Grail while washing up on Sunday. Must have been something I watched on telly. Oh yes, that's right: Monty Python. You were expecting something else?
Meanwhile, I have camelias. The first I bought when I took a break from the middle of the washing of the socks to catch a bus to a nearby fete and saw one for sale which reminded me of the pinky white blooms of the late and lamented crabapple tree and since beggers are ill suited for being choosers, I trundled it all the way home in my trolly. A coupla klicks it was, too, up hill and down dale, so nuts to the person who said gardening wasn't proper exercise. And an extremely overfamilar camelia it was, too, as we bounced together all the way home. Branches! Branches! Branches in new places!
Then I got up on Sunday to water the garden and found three camelias lurking outside the back door where there had been one. Mildly alarming if you'd grown up on BBC kids shows in the 70s like I did, but it turned Himself, understanding that camelias were okay, had bought two more, a pink and a white to go with the pinky/white to plug the hole, the heartbreaking hole, in the shrubbery against the north fence where the ancient and gnarled old tree had been. The three cams fitted very nicely inbetween the roses to the left and the azaleas to the right. Sigh.
( more: pretty boys and predestination )
And I ended up quoting the Holy Grail while washing up on Sunday. Must have been something I watched on telly. Oh yes, that's right: Monty Python. You were expecting something else?
Meanwhile, I have camelias. The first I bought when I took a break from the middle of the washing of the socks to catch a bus to a nearby fete and saw one for sale which reminded me of the pinky white blooms of the late and lamented crabapple tree and since beggers are ill suited for being choosers, I trundled it all the way home in my trolly. A coupla klicks it was, too, up hill and down dale, so nuts to the person who said gardening wasn't proper exercise. And an extremely overfamilar camelia it was, too, as we bounced together all the way home. Branches! Branches! Branches in new places!
Then I got up on Sunday to water the garden and found three camelias lurking outside the back door where there had been one. Mildly alarming if you'd grown up on BBC kids shows in the 70s like I did, but it turned Himself, understanding that camelias were okay, had bought two more, a pink and a white to go with the pinky/white to plug the hole, the heartbreaking hole, in the shrubbery against the north fence where the ancient and gnarled old tree had been. The three cams fitted very nicely inbetween the roses to the left and the azaleas to the right. Sigh.
( more: pretty boys and predestination )