Woken today to pots blown about the garden, courgettes wilted in the cold and bedraggled potato leaves.
And reflecting on a week which stirred up so many long forgotten memories and what ifs.
So, in an attempt (largely unsuccessful) to banish these thoughts I have thrown myself into painting.
There is something very therapeutic about waxing furniture.
Which is probably just as well, as I have six unloved little side tables arriving on Thursday, along with numerous pastel hues of paint.
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