And There Shall Be Much Rejoicing

... for I have been offered my dream job.

Sometimes I wish I knew more internet trickery so I could bring you them dancing.

Pop Goes The Gooseberry

Half a pound of tuppeny rice
Half a pound of treacle
That's the way the money goes
Pop goes the weasel

We've had a lot of rain here. Although, we're lucky because some poor people have been flooded badly up north. The problem with rain, if you're growing fruit, is that it seems to make ripe fruit burst. So, it was, as I was picking gooseberries, that this rhyme went round my head. There's something about picking fruit that makes me think random thoughts, such as "what does this rhyme really mean?" I came to the conclusion that it was a subversive rhyme suggesting that if you bought rice and treacle, you would have no money and be fat. I was almost right.
Last time I picked gooseberries, I decided that fruit plants had a "zen". I did warn you my mind wanders. The zen of fruit plants was that they attempt to hide all their fruit under their leaves so that I didn't see the ripe ones. And, in the case of gooseberries, protect them with evil thorns to put you off.
Nevertherless, I got a whole punnet of mostly non-popped gooseberries.

However, before I picked the gooseberries, I picked a whole load of tayberries. These fruit may look the same, but because they're redder and smaller, are different. My mother told me not to pick them any more, but then in the afternoon started picking them anyway. Yes, I was confused too.

I Thought Cats Sat On Laps?

So Much For The City

Well, here I am. Last week all I could see from my bedroom window was a street lined with houses leading down a (very steep) hill to the train station, this week all I can see is fields.
I miss the city.