Mothering Sunday.

It's Mothers' Day here in the UK. A special day for mothers usually marked with flowers or other gifts.  I had a card from Romas and these beautiful flowers from Vytas arrived yesterday. Who knows, I may even get a phone call later on.

I didn't feel up to going on the walk this afternoon as I had a bad night last night. I thought I would be better off working in the garden where I could take a break when I felt like. Also I'm trying to get the ground dug over and the first layer of gravel down before I have the surgery on my toe after which I won't be able to garden for at least a few weeks. Of course I could schedule the surgery for later in the year but it needs doing sooner than later. The only drawback to gardening today of all days is that it gave me too much thinking time.

Before getting on with digging over the garden I re-did the edging slabs by the bluebell bed as they needed to be higher. Then when the new shingle goes down it won't spill over onto the flower bed. Also when I looked from above the line of slabs wasn't straight. Although I'm exuberant and messy when being creative and love a wild garden if something is meant to be straight then it should be perfectly straight and I really can't bear seeing pictures hanging crookedly. After being brought up by my mother who was verging on OCD I have a very sharp eye for noticing such things which may not be a good thing.

But try as I might I could not get the slabs in a straight line due to the positions of the steps at one end and the planter at the other. I shall just have to make an effort to ignore the bend and wait for the black 'grass' planted along the front of the bed to grow over offending slab. At least the top edge is perfectly level as I checked each section with a spirit level. When that was done I went on to do some more digging accompanied by the usual robins and blackbird. 

Looking forward to a relaxing evening watching the final of Dancing on Ice. The overdone enthusiasm can be annoying but it is fun to watch the skating. It doesn't really matter who wins, neither of us can remember previous winners or even who were the contestants last year. Only Tod Carty's disappearance down the tunnel in 2009 remains stuck in our memories.