All I want to do and what I have done

Excitement of the week - finding a supply of tomato puree

What I should be doing is writing. I have two novellas in progress, one started last year, the other about two/three years ago. The trouble is I don't feel the enthusiasm for story writing at the moment. I did go back to the novella I began last year and have added a little more to it. I even know where it is going, though not the ending. Yet I keep putting it off.

What I have been doing is more gardening, preparing beds and scattering seeds and sitting outside reading. I have read two books this week so my book pile are going down. I have a list of others to add to them! At present this is all I want to do, read.

I did get out for a walk today, first one in a week. There aren't many places near me but I chose one that cuts through a golf course. I seemed to spend more time on busy roads than in the quiet wooded walk. It seems so much shorter than it used to!

View across the golf course

I got particularly excited at the end of the food shop, after the walk, because I found a small shop with a supply of tomato puree. This seems to be one of those items in short supply. They only had cans but I bought three. I use tomato puree a lot in my veggie dishes.

At the back of a cupboard I came across a cookie mix box with a best before 2014! It's one of those you just add an egg and vegetable oil to. Well, I used it and they are going fast!

The highlight of the week was the supermoon and I got just a little obsessed with taking photos. My son even took his small telescope outside and I had a chance to get a better view of Venus. Thankfully, the sky was clear and it was warm enough to lurk around outside.

When I'm bored I often end up writing nonsense verse to amuse myself and my Facebook friends. So, let me share today's with you.

Mug

He was a half empty rather than half full kinda guy,

and always brimming slops of liquid brown eyes,

yet I would cup my hands around his body, feel the

warmth of him seeping into me.

Sometimes he was like china in my hands, overflowing

in emotion; I carefully arranged drip mats before him,

his spillages were hot tears or cold comfort, a handle

I couldn’t hold on to.

We ended up going around in circles and I threw him

to the wall. I shattered his heart and for that I am sorry;

I took up with someone whose lines lay between leather

bound pages.