Taming The Wasteland: Look How Far I've Come

 On the back of viewing an exquisitely styled open house, further up our street, and coming home to feel that my place is a bit dowdy, dark and dumpy, I decided to look back on how far I have come with my garden.

I give you: The Wasteland then:

 

An in between shot...

And now:

 Although there are less weeds at the moment :-)

My terraces a few years back and then one taken last week....

 

The bank, down from the patio, just after I'd plugged in a whole lot of little cuttings. 

 

 

It took a few years but now........

 

 

 

I planted some Full Moon  convolvulus in the first year...

 

 

Here it is now...

 

 

And the other side of the staircase then

and now

Still a bit of work to do here :-)

The next step is to plan out the bottom half of the garden which is pretty bare at the moment...

But hey! I think I can pat myself on the back.

I comfort myself that although the house up the road was styled beautifully and had a great view....its back garden was rubbish 😂

Until next time!

The Twin Strands of Grief

It was going to be bad. I knew that.

I don't often receive phone messages from my dear friends in the UK. They are facebook averse and communicate mainly through email so when I got the message to call, I knew it was going to be bad.

This is Dear Friend 1. On Sunday the fifth he had a massive heart attack and died.
We did not see it coming.

Dear Friend 1 and I have known each other for 24 years. We met in the early days of parenthood; I can't actually recall the exact occasion, but it was early. The kids were still in those baby capsules we carted them about in. I had met Dear Friend 1's partner through baby massage classes and then in one of those complex webs of connection that happen in small cities, been introduced to Dear Friend 2 and his partner through mutual friends V and D and probably Dear Friend1 at the same time. We formed a tight knit group supporting each other through all those early minefields of child rearing, with good food, good company and the occasional glass of wine.

     Dear Friend 2 and Dear Friend 1 enjoying a small tipple in my newly landscaped garden circa 1997

This group were my lifeline. They became like family. Even this year as I visited the UK I said to them that after 16 years in Adelaide I still felt more loved and accepted coming to Southampton and meeting up with them.

 L-R:Dear Friend 2, Dear Friend 1's partner, Dear Friend 1, Dear Friend 2's partner and me. NYE 2018-19

DF1 was in good form, if a little slower and enjoying semi retirement. We only caught up a couple of times as I had opted for a shorter trip but we hugged goodbye and were pleased to acknowledge that, given my Mum's condition, I would be there next Christmas as well.

"See you next Christmas!"

Crap.

When I learned he had gone, my first thought was how much I would miss him.
I can still hear his laugh, still feel his energy and vitality.
So many of his wise words still echo in my brain.

 Christmas Eve 2018

In the morning I awoke to realise I would never again receive my annual CD of the best music he'd discovered in the past year. I have 17 of these CDs. With liner notes.

His loss is mind numbing and gut wrenching and world shaking. But he has a partner.

Somewhere in my own grief I have to make room for hers.

And here are the twin strands of grief. How do I help, love and support my dear friend in her massive loss, whilst wrestling with my own?

A number of times recently, I have succumbed to the bottle and ended up sending wine smeared, self indulgent messages to her, reflecting my grief, only to wake up and feel awful for inflicting that upon her.

How to navigate this?

I am clueless. I am also 12,000 miles away so I can't bring her a casserole, not that casseroles are my strength.

This morning (her time) I called and we had a good conversation. She is vague and in shock, struggling to make day to day decisions and to keep herself moving forward. I managed to stay calm and (relatively) upbeat, affirming her feelings, sharing memories that had us both giggling and commiserating over animals who will not play the 'bodily functions go outdoors' game. After I got off the phone I howled again. Long and hard.

I'm just not sure how to do this.

A First Hand View of Guts

My guts specifically. Which I am not sure are meant to be spilled across the footpath. Or across the blogosphere for that matter.

After 24 years my bebe, the BA has decided to move out.

This is perfectly normal. She needs to stretch and grow.

I am completely fine with this.

I am also completely bereft.

It is some time since I wrote those words. The BA is now happily ensconsed in a share house with two other school friends. They are 15 mins from the centre of town and  a short walk from one of the premiere music venues in Adelaide.

So...all good then.

I'm not going to pretend this has been an easy transition. After all, my BA was the only flesh and blood relative I have in this country.  We have three cats...but they're not much on the communication front.

Over the last few years we have tended to pass in the night, but at least I knew that.....on most nights....she would arrive home.

She's been the best kid really, contacting me constantly on various social media platforms.
But she is gone.

 I'm surprised I didn't see this coming.