Monday, February 18, 2019
I had grand plans to take Olga to Wormwood Scrubs yesterday morning, but when we got to the Overground station the trains weren't running. (Of course.) Rather than change plans and backtrack toward the Heath, I decided to continue on towards Paddington Old Cemetery, where we hadn't been for about a year.
It was a beautiful day, sunny and spring-like.
The crocuses were out in profusion, which provided me with plenty of photographic opportunities. Olga was more focused on chewing up her tennis ball.
The cemetery's beautiful gothic chapels are still fenced off and inaccessible, just as they were last spring. It seems tragic that those 160-year-old buildings are being left to deteriorate. The light was hitting the stained glass windows, and through a gap in another window I could just make out Jesus, looking down on the empty room. That's probably as close as I'll ever come to seeing those windows from the inside.
Among the crocuses and snowdrops I also found clumps of iris. I'm not sure what kind this is, but it's much earlier than the irises in our garden, which won't appear for another few months.
Back home again, I joined Dave to do a little bit of trimming in our garden. More is scheduled for today -- we need to hold back the flood tide of English ivy that threatens to swallow up our plants. I still don't see any sign of life from the passionflower vine, which you may remember I cut back really hard a couple of months ago. I still think I may have killed it.
Last night we went to dinner with Chris and Linda, our pals from Notting Hill. I privately pledged not to discuss Brexit, which turns into more of a disaster every day, and we never broached the topic -- thank goodness.