Not much work passing my way. Please don't send me any crap about loans, scam-based accident claims or details of the nearest Samaritans. I AM OK. I just want to work in a creative capacity. Hence I am blogging. If only to myself then so be it.
Perhaps by telling you, or me, about things that waft across my senses then I will lighten my load of some bothering bits of sticky sweets left in an old coat that was only used for gardening, by someone from the allotment that has now unfortunately been bulldozed and covered in concrete for a new Tesco. Hoorah Tesco on making more money and importing more fruit and veg from abroad.
After all we don't know how to grow ourselves do we? Or we can't be bothered more like. I wanted to do gardening. I wanted to grow my own fruit and veg. To be able to come in the house with a box full of spuds, carrots and conference pears, it would be such a joy. But alas I drive to Tesco and put it in the trolley. Product of South Africa or Peru. Anywhere but my back garden.
I should try for the sake of my children at least.
Ok so you say, at least the people in those countries have livelihoods that help to redress the inequality of west capitalist greed versus third world plight.
Actually we are all fucked if the planes, trains and articulated lorries continue to bring in cheap products to satisfy our lifestyle. All the oil and emissions that pour out at the expense of the planet just because we can't be arsed to grow our own. Don't have time? BOLLOCKS. You have time to shop, time to watch football, to buy and sell on ebay and to read this, but not time to get in the garden or allotment and GROW YOUR OWN!!!
And nor do I. And I am ashamed.
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