Still Hirpled

The ankle sprain transpired to be a cracked bone and lord alone knows what ligament damage. After hobbling around like a hirpled hen for a week, I hitched a ride when mum went to see Dad in hospital and visited A&E. I am now sporting a dashing Beckham Boot. The weather has been beautiful and sitting with one leg up rather than walking the byways and weeding the borders has been little short of torture. This, and the ongoing nagging pain, has made me deeply cranky and a thorn in everyone’s flesh. I fear that for Ishbel’s graduation I shall be sporting flats with one white leg and one brown – a sort of muted jester look. The originally planned outfit required heels so has been shelved and I hit the internet this morning in search of longer skirts.

There are, however, a few items to note in the credit column. Mum relented and stayed over to help with the pre garden open day weeding (she has been at it like a complete maniac) and in the evenings there has been much good chat over a therapeutic gin and tonic. The quest for useful sitting down jobs meant that I actually potted on all of the annuals grown from seed and for the first year ever did not resort to surreptitiously chucking the last of them on the compost heap. This mammoth task took me through several episodes of The British History Podcast ( and I am now on the cusp of the downfall of Earl Godwin and his maniac nun-stealing son Swein (who has absolutely had it coming for several episodes and is now heading to Jerusalem for a “rebrand”). Should anyone want some antirrhinum do pop over. I can’t remember what colour they are but as they were intended for the new border probably pastel shades. I also recommenced Keith’s frock coat cardigan which had been shelved as I was stuck over how to do the front. With extensive coffee and audiobook assistance I have resolved the issues below the arm holes (mostly) but the neck remains a bit of an open question. I think I will knit both fronts most of the way up then take another look. This is perhaps not an orthodox approach but, given I have by now totally abandoned any pretence of following the pattern, I must resort to trial and error. We shall see.

All this sitting around has also meant that I have had time to watch the garden put on its flouncy summer clothes and twirl. The show of aquilegia has been stunning. The frost earlier in the year seems to have held some things back and now we have the iris and early peonies and astrantia all coming out together, jostling for attention in the debutantes parade. The Cassandra in me is worrying that we may be faced with a June gap in a few weeks, but then again the roses and late peonies are budding nicely and I think the wisteria and lupins will hold out for a bit. Time to enjoy what’s there now I think and not fuss about next week. We have our first open garden visitors today. Hopefully they won’t mind the weedy bits I couldn’t get to (I always appreciate a few when visiting other gardens, it cheers me up thoroughly to see other people have them too).

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