Molehills

Much of life is molehills – things that are a bit of a pain but no big deal in the grand scheme of things. I had 27 (I think) molehills down the end of my garden, and this week I’ve started removing the soil from them so that at some point I can mow the lawn. It’s hard work, but I have several bags of good topsoil now. I do wonder, though, how big the tunnels are underneath the molehills, and whether the garden will just collapse eventually.

I did a bit of strimming, too, with my fancy new strimmer. It works. That’s all you can say about a strimmer, really.

Monday and Tuesday were good days. I worked with an Artlift follow-on group on Monday, and they did very well; On Tuesday morning I had an excellent session at the hospital, and in the afternoon ran my Cirencester Artlift group, who are spectacular.

But a problem had arisen. I was called just before my afternoon workshop because of a Poetry on Loan event that was due to happen on Friday – a very political poet, performing in a library, and the council had said that they were in pre-election purdah and we couldn’t do anything with a political content. The fact that this particular poet is rude about every party didn’t make a difference. Phone calls and emails flurried through the air, and it seemed as if we were going to have to postpone the event (despite the good ticket sales), until finally the council agreed that it was ok as long as he didn’t make comments about local politics. Phew. One molehill overcome.

In the evening we saw Suite Française, which was ok, but not as good as I had hoped.

And another molehill arose. My mother needed to get from her house in Barton-on-Humber to her other house in Cheshire. Shouldn’t be a problem, except that she had her car with her in Barton and no longer feels able to drive it long distances. So I spent a lot of Wednesday arranging a hire car to take me from home to Barton, and another from Cheshire to home. I also did a lot of Artlift stuff (all molehills) and writeups.

Thursday and Friday were mostly spent driving. I left home at 8:30 on Thursday and finally arrived, with mother, in Cheshire at 6:30 pm. I did manage to write a poem on Thursday evening, though, which I was pleased about because I haven’t written one for weeks. On Friday I drove home again, and did some more work on the real molehills, and some prep for this week, and more Artlift stuff, and caught up with all the emails.

Saturday was a bit of a treat – we went to Hereford library to see Jonny Fluffypunk’s one-man show. It was excellent, funny and clever and moving. Time I did one myself… And we collected some computers that I had arranged to acquire for the Ledbury Poetry Festival.

And on Sunday I wrote another poem, and finally, finally finished the book of pieces I have been working on since last March. I’ll get it to the online publisher today, and then that will be one very longstanding molehill cleared completely. Hooray!

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