Roses

There are two types of roses that I like. More obviously - if you know me - the chocolate ones that come in a big tin. One Christmas I lay on the sofa reading a book I'd just been given and ate a whole tin. It was the best of times and, indeed, the worst. (I wasn't reading Dickens, though; I think my brother had given me the latest Iain Banks.)

The other kind of roses that I like are the flowers. Not in a passionate or even terribly interested way: the only rose I can name is the American Beauty and that's because of the film. But I do like them.

As an extension of that, it's also true that while I like having a garden, with flowers and nicely cut lawn, I don't really enjoy anything that contributes to that state of affairs. Is that bad?

Anyway, chronically unobservant as I am, I only properly noticed this rose bush in the garden, today. (It is a rose bush, right?)