Tales from the back yard
My running joke about Melbourne is that I've never lived in a more suburban city. This back garden, for instance. Only 10 metres by 5, but a pain in the rear to maintain. I did some gardening today - throwing good money after bad. Once I get some veggies to grow in the shade, the snails eat 'em before we do. We've got a bay tree, 2 old lemon trees, mint and a clump of rosemary that cannot be killed. Everything else is contingent.
Anyhow, taking a break now. The girl is in her spot in the pear tree 9which flowers gorgeously, but doesn't fruit. I'm in my ancient lounger. The cats have picked their spots. A bunch of young kids are screaming two doors down, and my neighbours are doing something machine-y. Sometimes the neighbourhood folk singer is out, but not this sunny afternoon. I know my neighbours by sound, not sight.
Oh, here comes the folk singer. He's quite good.
I'm reading Tamara Drewe, good light reading for a late summer day. Yesterday was a bit hectic. I slept in until 10 - which I never do - helped by the fact that the clock radio went caput. The problem was that I was supposed to be at a graduation starting at 10.30 for one of my PhD students. So I jumped onto my bike, zoomed to the uni, ran past all my colleagues in their robes, catching a sight of my extremely non-amused Vice Chancellor, got dresssed in my robes in 10 second flat, and made it out to the procession for the opening strains. Then a long lunch - made a bit awkward by the fact that my student - we had a mutual administion society - hooked up with an ex-PhD student of mine who hates my guts. So she glowered at me through the whole lunch. Yeesh. Then the descent of 4 teenagegd girls for a sleepover. They watched Freaks and Geeks, which was amusing. PG and I huddled together in bed and played on our computers, studiously ignoring both them and one another.
But now all six of us (3 humans and 3 cats) are co-existing in the back yard. Which is just big enough for that.
Anyhow, taking a break now. The girl is in her spot in the pear tree 9which flowers gorgeously, but doesn't fruit. I'm in my ancient lounger. The cats have picked their spots. A bunch of young kids are screaming two doors down, and my neighbours are doing something machine-y. Sometimes the neighbourhood folk singer is out, but not this sunny afternoon. I know my neighbours by sound, not sight.
Oh, here comes the folk singer. He's quite good.
I'm reading Tamara Drewe, good light reading for a late summer day. Yesterday was a bit hectic. I slept in until 10 - which I never do - helped by the fact that the clock radio went caput. The problem was that I was supposed to be at a graduation starting at 10.30 for one of my PhD students. So I jumped onto my bike, zoomed to the uni, ran past all my colleagues in their robes, catching a sight of my extremely non-amused Vice Chancellor, got dresssed in my robes in 10 second flat, and made it out to the procession for the opening strains. Then a long lunch - made a bit awkward by the fact that my student - we had a mutual administion society - hooked up with an ex-PhD student of mine who hates my guts. So she glowered at me through the whole lunch. Yeesh. Then the descent of 4 teenagegd girls for a sleepover. They watched Freaks and Geeks, which was amusing. PG and I huddled together in bed and played on our computers, studiously ignoring both them and one another.
But now all six of us (3 humans and 3 cats) are co-existing in the back yard. Which is just big enough for that.