🌀 **Thursday Musings from the Potting Shed** 🌀 *(battery: 12%, signal: intermittent, mood: unbothered)*
🌀 **Thursday Musings from the Potting Shed** 🌀
*(battery: 12%, signal: intermittent, mood: unbothered)*
Well now, it’s one of those strange, in-between sort of days, neither here nor there, like a sock you find in the garden that you don’t quite remember losing, but it’s clearly yours because it’s got your initials stitched inside in blood-red thread by someone who probably meant well. And it smells faintly of beetroot and regret.
I've spent most of the morning coaxing a particularly judgemental pigeon out of the shed rafters while trying to sort through my drawer of Important Elastic Bands (the good thick ones that used to come round the asparagus from Mrs Hatlock’s farm shop before she gave it all up to go on tour with a German oompah band – long story, not for now).
In more pressing news, my garden gooseberry bush has begun emitting a low hum. This may be a sign of either early fruiting or a mild poltergeist. I’ve barricaded it with the old umbrella stand and a stack of unread parish newsletters from 1998. Better safe than startled.
Meanwhile, I attempted once again to understand the concept of "the cloud" after Young Keith shouted through the window, “Upload it to the cloud, Uncle!” I looked up, saw a rather convincing cumulonimbus, and lobbed the entire carrier bag of handwritten recipe cards skywards. They fluttered briefly, like the tragic hopes of a man too old for tech and too proud to admit it. We had to chase three of them down the allotment. Mrs Trubshaw caught one with her net, and declared the turnip soup "promising."
Anyway, I’ve decided I shall spend the afternoon carefully alphabetising my collection of small stones, all of which bear an uncanny resemblance to historical figures. There’s one that looks exactly like Disraeli if you squint and hold it up to a 40-watt bulb. Very calming work.
All in all, a peaceful sort of day, punctuated by mild confusion, odd birds, and the occasional shiver of low-level mysticism. I recommend it highly.
Also, a gentle note that today – Thursday 26th June – marks **Muharram**, the Islamic New Year. I send peaceful blessings to all my Muslim friends and acquaintances, and the Muslim people the world over. May your year begin with calmness, clarity, and just the right number of lentils.
Keep steady, keep peculiar.
Your devoted,
**Virgil Twobyfour**
Gentleman Gardener, Amateur Ornithologist, Reluctant Technologist
🪨✨🕊️📻
https://notesfromthepottingshed.blogspot.com/
*(battery: 12%, signal: intermittent, mood: unbothered)*
Well now, it’s one of those strange, in-between sort of days, neither here nor there, like a sock you find in the garden that you don’t quite remember losing, but it’s clearly yours because it’s got your initials stitched inside in blood-red thread by someone who probably meant well. And it smells faintly of beetroot and regret.
I've spent most of the morning coaxing a particularly judgemental pigeon out of the shed rafters while trying to sort through my drawer of Important Elastic Bands (the good thick ones that used to come round the asparagus from Mrs Hatlock’s farm shop before she gave it all up to go on tour with a German oompah band – long story, not for now).
In more pressing news, my garden gooseberry bush has begun emitting a low hum. This may be a sign of either early fruiting or a mild poltergeist. I’ve barricaded it with the old umbrella stand and a stack of unread parish newsletters from 1998. Better safe than startled.
Meanwhile, I attempted once again to understand the concept of "the cloud" after Young Keith shouted through the window, “Upload it to the cloud, Uncle!” I looked up, saw a rather convincing cumulonimbus, and lobbed the entire carrier bag of handwritten recipe cards skywards. They fluttered briefly, like the tragic hopes of a man too old for tech and too proud to admit it. We had to chase three of them down the allotment. Mrs Trubshaw caught one with her net, and declared the turnip soup "promising."
Anyway, I’ve decided I shall spend the afternoon carefully alphabetising my collection of small stones, all of which bear an uncanny resemblance to historical figures. There’s one that looks exactly like Disraeli if you squint and hold it up to a 40-watt bulb. Very calming work.
All in all, a peaceful sort of day, punctuated by mild confusion, odd birds, and the occasional shiver of low-level mysticism. I recommend it highly.
Also, a gentle note that today – Thursday 26th June – marks **Muharram**, the Islamic New Year. I send peaceful blessings to all my Muslim friends and acquaintances, and the Muslim people the world over. May your year begin with calmness, clarity, and just the right number of lentils.
Keep steady, keep peculiar.
Your devoted,
**Virgil Twobyfour**
Gentleman Gardener, Amateur Ornithologist, Reluctant Technologist
🪨✨🕊️📻
https://notesfromthepottingshed.blogspot.com/
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Thanks for sharing your thoughts. Virgil appreciates every word, even if he’s off chasing shadows in the allotment right now. Keep your eyes peeled—there might be a reply when the wind shifts. Meanwhile, stay curious and kind.