Excuse the stupid caption, but

I can't remove it in this software.Today was Extra specially sad,, or at best bittersweet. I took the day off work because I hadn't slept well, and I had to help organise Bomble's burial. (Bomble is our beloved cat, who died yesterday. See my blip of Monday 16th).

Our friends came round to help us dig a hole in the vinca-covered flowerbed. Fortunately I'd stripped out the brambles and nettles two weeks earlier, so I just had to remove the leaves first and the friends dug, while we pulled out roots and pot sherds. The friends G and J left, for Wales, and Steve cooked us a brunch of scrambled eggs on toast. Then we held a mini funeral for Bomble, buried him with some of his special things (a jigsaw piece, a hessian mouse he'd ripped apart, and a green bean, because he loved to 'hunt' a day-old bean and kill it) and then we made a little rockery over his grave.

After that sad interlude we had to pack the car and go to the tip AGAIN. Sixth time in 15 days. Got everything in the car, thank goodness, and when the tipping was done, we drove to Felt Cafe, near Brimscombe, for a coffee by the river. Service was terribly slow, and they've ruined the rustic outdoor look with some fringed parasols that look like film set props, but never mind.there was a fantastic Studebaker van parked under one of the railway arches on the 19th century industrial estate where the cafe is located. That made up for any inconveniences.

Steve drove me to the Canal Bookshop at Brimscombe, which is only open three days a week. Today was one of them. I got some audiotapes/CDs for our car journey, and few other bits and pieces. Walked home (about 2 miles) along the canal. The day was overcast, but I snapped the cygnets clustered around one of the locks.

Back home, I thought it might be a good idea to start clearing the front garden. Terrible idea! I started at ten past four and finished just about eight o'clock. All I'd done was cut the flowering tops of the prolific willowherb, cut some down to the ground, and taken out and bagged some brambles and bindweed. It still looks awful out there, but maybe just not as tall. I don't like people seeing me as they walk up and down the street with their dogs, because I am ashamed of our jungle. It must be the worst in the street. As Steve says, willowherb grows on bomb sites. (Is it also called Tumbleweed? The pink thing?)

Our neighbour J. came past and I gave her a tour of our improved back garden and showed her Bomble's rock garden grave. She has agreed to cut down some sycamore trees that block our light. Result! I also gave her Bomble's stock of spare cat food..She has two ginger rescue cats that she adopted as kittens, the year we got Bomble, from the same charity, and she was instrumental in our getting Bomble when our previous cat, Wiggy, died.

After supper, we listened to some podcasts while I did a small Brambly Hedge-themed jigsaw that I had picked up at the Canal bookshop. I will pass it on to my mother when I see her next week. Right now, I'm a little tired of brambles and hedges.

Back to work tomorrow, as long as I sleep well tonight.