Off the wagon

I had been so well behaved this week that by the end, I thought I might implode.

But it's okay, I didn't implode. Chickenpox round one (Fionn) is over, or clearly over the contagious part. So he went back to school and Brighid and I wondered what to do in the rain when we didn't want to clean the house.

Shopping and Guinness.

We had lunch in town, bought a bay tree and a lemon tree (both tiny ones - buying the big ones is very expensive and you are just paying for someone else having watered them for two years beforehand), bought more wool for my grown-up-another-attempt-at-elegance black alpaca wrap cardigan. I wore my gumboots for all of this. I wasn't on elegance attempting duty today. At all.

Then we came home, planted rhubarb, the lemon and the bay trees and collected Fionn from school.

Then we did more shopping, for beer, ranunculas, chips and funky bright yellow shoe laces for the op shop sneakers for Fionn.

This is what the ranunculas will look like when they grow. I'm planting them round the base of our funky recycled and replainted yellow and black letterbox tomorrow.Best bit.

Then I stopped at the local pub, found Favourite Handyman, brought the children in, plyed them with chips and let them run round the pub while I sat and talked to adults who weren't even mothers (nearly everyone I talk to in my parenting week who is over seven is a mother) and drank Guinness.

I did talk about gardening though.

That is my day ladies and gentlemen. Because I started out the day a good girl, we came home to slow cooked chickpea, kumara and swiss chard curry. No cans involved either - home cooked and frozen pasta sauce and chickpeas use. Maybe I'll go to Peak Oil heaven after all.

Which brings me to something I've been thinking about of late - the similarities between religion (thinking Christianity here but could easily be others) and peak oil 'belief'. Next week...