Well now. Someone said to me the other day that I have become something of a bike bore, meaning that all I do is burble on about my cycling exploits. So I’m not going to mention the word “bike” once in this post.
Ah shit! I just did!
Today, just because the urge took me, I revisited something I used to do every weekend without fail. No! Behave yourself! Nothing to do with that! Playing hockey that is – what were you thinking about? Actually, on this occasion I am talking about flowers.
Yep that’s right – those great big girlie things that most people wouldn’t associate with this particular lifelong tomboy. But there you have it: my little secret is out. I am a closet florist.
For a few years, every Saturday I used to buy myself (well, I’d have grown old waiting for anyone else to buy them for me) a handful of bunches of flowers and create floral arrangements. I was actually getting quite good at them latterly if I say so myself. I can’t actually remember why I stoppped doing it – possibly bonsai intervened, possibly other things.
Anyway. Today I decided to resurrect my amateur florist status partly to alleviate the tedium of yet another snowy day with temperatures below -7C. Partly also to brighten up the house which was looking a tad gloomy through lack of festive decoration (HimIndoors is still on his bah humbug anti-Christmas thing so decorations are a non-no and a Christmas tree – forget it!)
Result was fairly good. I’m a bit rusty but with some more practice maybe? good lord! At this rate I’ll be doing tray bakes and victoria sponges for the local Woman’s Guild. Heaven forfend!