Just some 100 years ago I’d have been locked away for being insane. A statement that might not be especially surprising to many reading this but I do talk to myself. I’d never noticed before but Mrs Jez does like to point out just how much I chatter to myself and to the dogs, and the bees and even the vegetables. I don’t expect an answer, so in terms of a assessing myself on some informal madness scale I think I’d score fairly low – unlikely to show you my knife collection at the bus stop or crumble Rich Tea over my head but I might say “hello” in a lift.
Sometimes I surprise myself with my seemingly inherent ramblings: “oh Jez what are you doing?”; “let’s take this caterpillar off of your leaves you poor plant”; “oh Mrs Bee, come on now get with it”; “Mr Weed you’re beginning to annoy me” – those are just this morning’s. But yesterday’s was a real corker and even surprised me.
Walking to the vegetable garden I asked myself – no one else around, not even