I am having one of those days where I want to change the world but I cannot be bothered to move. With a million ideas running through my mind, it is difficult to focus on one particular idea for long enough to take action. I have spent the sunniest day of the year staring into space, transfixed on motivating myself into a more constructive state of mind, however, with my thoughts so far away, before I had chance to put on my working shoes, the sun had set behind the mountains.
Digging the grass up from the back garden was not one of my well thought out plans. We had a decent enough lawn to begin with, but me being me, I want to put my on stamp on our residence having moved home eight times in ten years.
We moved to this adorable flat exactly one year ago and this move was by far the most exhausting. I had settled at our last address but due to our house needing serious repair and a landlord who had no interest in making those repairs, we had no choice but to pack up and go once again.
I am grateful to have found such a quirky little home for our quirky little family and the condition of the property is a much-deserved relief from the majority of our past residences, but homesickness hit hard and despite how blessed I feel for finally finding a place to call home, unsettlement was taking a heavy toll.
We are lucky to have three, lovely gardens around our flat, all of which only needed some TLC. We spent a small fortune, last year, on prettying up the bare essentials, but I have a highly addictive personality and I have found a love in restoration and landscaping.
The day I first dug a spade into the lawn was inspired by the outbreak of Spring. Having being grounded to the settee through a harsh winter, the freedom the garden offers was a sanction well needed.
I cannot sit and do nothing. I find it impossible to sit back and relax, so sunbathing on the patio is certainly not for me! So, armoured with sunshine and freedom, I began to dig…, dig…, and dig! It seemed like the perfect way to occupy my time.
What I had not prepared for was the patio that I was about to unearth. 24 square metres of concrete blocks to move by hand is a mammoth task for a 5ft little me. One month, blood, sweat, tears and severely bad language later, the once half-decent lawn now looks like an excavation site and it is difficult to imagine it looking any differently in the near future.
As I said, I have millions of ideas, but standing in the equivalent of a half-dug swimming pool, it is unfeasible to find a starting point. With piles of concrete dumped sporadically around the place, a mound of unneeded clodges stacked high and a neighbour who, to say the least, hates my guts, inspiration and my lack of strength is massively frustrating.
I hope to have the garden looking acceptable within the next month. That requires plenty of Weetobix!