Here I am, sitting in the window seat of yet another coffee shop. I've finished work for the weekend and am waiting to give Luke a lift home. A work colleague and I joked about our two summers when the sun briefly poked out from behind the clouds not once but twice. I spy blue skies and whipping past clouds but can't do any gardening today as its been bucketing down overnight. So I may sit here and dream of what I could do with endless supplies of money. Shockingly I think I may get a garden designer in to do a professional job. I feel like a sell out just saying that because for me more than half the pleasure of a garden is adding to it and watching it grow but the thought of a properly designed terrace with some old stone walling and a beautiful colour scheme makes me salivate already. Why don't we all do what we really want to in life? I never quite knew what to do and by the time you think you know it seems too late to retrain; the bills are ever present an the rat race seems to have got you firmly in it's grip. I'd love to have been several things, a dancer, a P.A., a window dresser and of course, more than these, a gardener. I didn't have these ambitions when I was younger and just drifted into work. I am a firm believer that it's never too late whilst there's breath in your body but do I apply that to myself when I have a chunky mortgage and a lovely home?
Well, you know the answer. As far as I'm concerned I lucked out with what I've got; a lovely man, a nice home, a good job and so on. My list of bounties is lengthy and so I'll count my blessings and carry on digging and designing my garden my way. I mean, it's hardly a hardship, is it. That way I also get to smell the roses and remind myself how many good things there are.
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