A few photos from Mother's garden. She likes potted colour.
When I prune this rose, I am inclined to use bad words as it is very thorny. I thought it was an old wild rose, but I have seen them around in public spaces this year, so I guess it isn't 'wild'.
I don't recall Mother ever complaining that anyone stole her flowers in pots along the front fence. The passing youf certainly do damage to the fence though and once knocked down a brand new letter box.
The house is badly in need of maintenance but there is reluctance among any of us to do anything much as it is unlikely Mother will be there for many more years and the house will probably be knocked down once it is sold.
The gusher wasn't stopping cars proceeding. One stopped under the jet for a quick car wash. The tram I was waiting for arrived, having just driven through the the gusher with windows open. It was awash.
Success! Coffee chain Gloria Jeans, with links to the crank religious mob Hillsong, has closed in Malvern.
Vertical lines, horizontal lines, symmetry. Boring for some, but it is my preference.
The recipe said to cook the christmas cake for 2 1/2 hours. I checked it at about 1 hour 45 mins and it was burnt and dry. We thought we might cut the burnt top off and ice it, but no. It is too dry. Still, we are eating it. We still have enough fruit left to make another, the only real extra expense being another 250g of butter and four eggs. The fruit is soaking as I speak, not in brandy as last time but whiskey and more of it to keep the cake moist.
but for us it is time for our own ritual, to close the blinds against the blindingly bright sun.
At the other end of the day the west wing of the apartment, my ensuited bedroom, is illuminated by the sun's dying rays.