Monday 1st August 2022

A new month.

A new working week.

573rd week of summer vacation in Denmark.

Some take four whole weeks off at th time of year, I barely have that allocation for a whole year.

Danes like the sun.

Its no secret, so come spring and summer they head south to roast in the warm sunshine. Maybe being born and raised in Denmark was a mistake?

I talked to a colleague last week as to why he didn't take time off in July: it's the only time I can get things done, he said. Which I can appreciate.

I am, however, pretty much up to date, so log on and stay poised for the eight hours of the working day.

Being August, I have to think about the lawnmeadow, and the fact that none of the seeds I planted last autumn showed. So, I am going to adjust the way I do things this year, with the intention this year to cut most of the dried and dead stems by hand, then colect the clumps by hand, shaking as I put them in a sack, so that seeds drop to the ground.

I hope.

That I would do once work was to finish.

But before then, breakfast and then work.

Jools went swimming at six, leaving me at home. So I make bread, mixing a batch and a half of dough, as the last one went off after seven days, so I knead that on the counter and let rise for 45 minutes.

I set the timer so not to create a monster. Again.

And that was that. I put some music on, and talk to Rune as he was back from his three week break, and thrilled, simply thrilled to be back at work. He has so many audits to do form next week, he is travelling for a month. With Frank leaving the department, that might be me too.

We shall see.

I put the bread into bake, and 45 minutes later it's done, looking like an eye. I can't wait, so have a crust smothered in butter and apricot jam with a big brew.

Yummy indeed.

And so to after work. I get the shears from theshed and get snipping.

Takes about an hour, with Common Blues scattering out of my cutting.

Once I am done, it looks half tidy, though the clippings need colelcting and bagging, but I would do that through the week, for me this was the worst of the back-breaking work done.

I sit on the patio, and Scully joins me to gaze upon my labours. I fill up the feeders, and the birds are happy enough.

Dinner was a variation on caprese, with some salad leaves too, as I could only find cherry tomatoes. Had I opened my eyes I would have found the ones still on the vine. Hey, I'm a guy. We also have a slice of bread, and once we have cleared away andwashed up, I make coffee to go with a slice of tart and cream. A bit heavy for supper, perhaps, and I would be worn up in the wee small hours.