Random Ramblings, Pick & Mixes and Grass

I am all about routine. Every morning when I awaken at seven, I have a walk in the woods by my house with my dog. There is no better time of day unless one is hungover. Of late, there have been plenty of sunny, idyllic mornings here in West Sussex. After a walk, I generally feel refreshed and ready to get on with my writing, or whatever I have to do that day.

My garden was recently landscaped. I scattered grass seed over it some weeks back, but despite there having been plenty of sun and some rain, it still resembles The Kalahari (see below). I was lamenting the lack of growth to a hippie I came across in the pub earlier in the week. He asked if I’d tried any ‘harvest prayers’. I said no, certainly not. He suggested that I might try the ‘very effective’ Mayan Prayer to the Seven Directions. Considering that the Mayan civilisation was decimated by severe drought, I think I will give it a miss.

Not a great deal else has happened to me this past week. Well actually, I had some vegetable samosas a few nights back. I am a carnivorous creature, but when it comes to samosas I am strictly vegetarian. They just don’t work with meat, at least not for me.

Some of my fondest memories from childhood entail Pick & Mix. And whenever I stumble across a Pick & Mix, I tend to be overwhelmed with nostalgia. On Monday when I went to the supermarket, I came across my first Lindor Pick & Mix.

I was unimpressed. While Lindor balls are not without their virtues, they are just too sickly and too similar to one another to justify a Pick & Mix devoted solely to them.