I'm nearly done with breaking the concrete out back. Indie Andy cut me a nice line with his angle grinder (in return for the shed, now gone to become his bike shed) so I'll have a tidy edge along by the fence. Apparently the whole solar panel thing is going so well that he's going to get some livery and a smart car and zap around Oxford fitting houses with solar panels!
While I was trimming back some overgrowth from our barrier hedge, I met George the back neighbour. He's in one of the big, Iffley road houses, and has a bizarre, L-shaped garden, with a vast vegetable patch round the corner. He also has loads of Goldenrod, so I'm hoping to see that next year, as it tends to march into neighbours' gardens. Popular with hoverflies, I remember watching them, fascinated, as a child, thrilled by watching a black-and-yellow insect I knew wasn't dangerous.
Alas, the Rusty Bicycle was a vast, roiling sea of hipsters on Tuesday evening, though fortunately (being hipsters) they all smoke constantly so were only in the pub for the length of time it took for them all to get served. Not long, thanks to the efficency of the bar staff. Actually, the bar staff seemed rather android-like in their beauty and efficiency, and there were a suspicious number of eccentric characters. It's really extremely pub-like, like someone set the holodeck to "Oxford pub".
This evening I bought myself that Bougainvillea I've walked past for the last three weeks from where it's sat outside my favourite florist, looking increasingly sad. It's an indulgence, but the jasmine's not coming back from its root rot, so... There was also a single heliotropium arborescens "marina" which I got for 90p -- almost over for this year, the florist said. Over? All over the Botanic gardens in swathes of blue and cherry pie scent.
My neck aches.