Nobody's perfect

The best way to start the day, dear reader, is with a coffee.



Heavy rain in the night had broekn several of my Gladioli. I found the above flower on the slabs in my back garden, it's parent stem having been snapped by Mother Nature. She's a bitch, but I suppose nobody's perfect.



Of those that were still in good condition, flowering or about to flower, only four could be saved. I cut them and brought them into the house. I hate cutting flowers. They are so much nicer and last longer in the garden. The wrost part about cutting them is that we'll only be here to enjoy them for another day and a half. Japan beckons.



Oh, and last night I finished my scarf. I'm never going to manage the black one. It's not even started yet, but I'll take my hook, wool and scissors with me - in my hold luggage, of course - to Japan.



I think it looks quite camp. And that's fabulous.



My hair is currently being bleached. I hope it turns out well. I'd like it to be as white as snow, this time, dear reader.



And there's still the lion's share of the packing to do. We're not lazy or disorganized. No. Some things simply have to be left to the last minute. I could hardly have packed the wash bag last night. How would I have had a shave this morning? As it is, I didn't shave until late this afternoon and will now not do so again until we arrive in Okinawa. I don't think the Japanese appreciate an unshaven Minge. If they don't like it, they can lump it.