The smell of freshly cut grass! One of those quintessentially English summer smells! Joni Mitchell sings about the ‘hissing of summer lawns” but we don’t as a rule have sprinklers keeping our gardens green here. Bruce Springsteen sings about “girls in their summer clothes”, which nowadays often means “in as few clothes as decently acceptable” and unfortunately often exposing more flesh than they really should. That includes the male of the species - males of all shapes and sizes pulling their t-shirts off to walk along the streets as if they were on the beach. Ah! Signs of summer! Which has been going on for a while here now. Pretty soon concerns about drought will be expressed.
When I went out this morning early(ish) I could smell cut grass. Council workers were cutting the grass verges on our road, up by the cricket club. It was probably needed. The dandelions that have been looking rather magnificent have mostly gone to dandelion clocks and then just straggly stalks. Now, suddenly it’s the turn of poppies, which are everywhere.
Yesterday I heard the sound of a lawn mower. Looking out I saw that the next door neighbour was cutting the grass in the back garden. We have a shared back garden. Legally, on the deeds, part of it is ours and part of it is theirs. Their bit is larger than ours as we also have a piece of garden at the side of the house. We could erect a very proprietorial fence between the sections of the back garden but it would really be a case of both of us cutting off our nose to spite our face. We all benefit from having a bigger open space. For years and years it has been Phil who has cut the grass. From time to time our neighbour has said he would do or, or he has volunteered his grown-up but still-living-at-home son to do it. All to no avail.
As the fine weather has continued, the grass in the back garden, never really meriting the term “lawn” has been growing longer. It was beginning to reach meadow proportions. Just over a week ago, maybe two, our neighbour assured me he was planning to cut the grass “one day soon”. So Phil has been stubbornly refusing to give in and cut it himself. A sort of game of chicken ensued: who could hold out the longest? Yesterday our neighbour gave in and cut the grass. Maybe his wife put some pressure on him.
However, he seemed to forget that when he assured me of his intention to cut the grass he also promised to mow the side garden … which remains a wilderness! So it goes! You can’t win them all!
I am told that today, or maybe yesterday, is Fibromyalgia International Awareness Day. I know a few people who suffer from this debilitating condition. And groups all over the world are shouting out about the need for more awareness of the condition. This day was chosen as it is the birthday of Florence Nightingale who possibly had fibro and suffered with chronic pain for most of her life.
She knew some stuff did Florence Nightingale 12.05.1820 - 13,08.1910 , possibly ahead of her time. Here’s a quotation:
“Apprehension, uncertainty, waiting, apprehension, fear of surprise, do a patient more harm than any exertion. Remember he is face to face with his enemy all the time.”
We have a chronic shortage of nurses and care workers in this country. It’s hard to recruit people to do the jobs. Aldi pays better! But the powers that be are making it harder for foreign workers to be employed in those positions. The government is making a big thing about cutting immigration … again!
Back in 1968, in his Rivers of Blood speech, Enoch Powell declared: “They found themselves made strangers in their own country”. Now Kier Starmer is criticised for seeming to have echoed that sentiment, declaring: “We risk becoming an island of strangers”. Odd! We all come from such diverse origins that surely we are all strangers already! Frankie Boyle has commented: “Imagine what it’s like being an immigrant in Britain at the minute, being told you need to integrate more by people that spend their holidays pointing at pictures of egg and chips on a menu”.
Michael Rosen put it more poetically:
“I lay in bed
hardly able to breathe
but there were people to sedate me,
pump air into me
calm me down when I thrashed around
hold my hand and reassure me
play me songs my family sent in
turn me over to help my lungs
shave me, wash me, feed me
check my medication
perform the tracheostomy
people on this ‘island of strangers’
from China, Jamaica, Brazil, Ireland
India, USA, Nigeria and Greece.
I sat on the edge of my bed
and four people came with
a frame and supported me
or took me to a gym
where they taught me how
to walk between parallel bars
or kick a balloon
sat me in a wheel chair
taught me how to use the exercise bike
how to walk with a stick
how to walk without a stick
people on this ‘island of strangers’
from China, Jamaica, Brazil, Ireland
India, USA, Nigeria and Greece.
If ever you’re in need as I was
may you have an island of strangers
like I had.”
That’s all.
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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