2020 Commute 17 of 52 (From): Toward a Brighter Tomorrow

There is a purveyor of gardening supplies suitable for the short, outdoor season we have in this country and, with the spring and 12+ hours of light per day, I am ready to take next Autumn’s bounty out to one or more of my scouted plots (blackthorn is great protection as well as a source of sloes, if you think about it).

I had checked earlier and this cash-only business would still be open until 4:30; in typical fashion, the first two cash machines I tried in the neighbourhood had been emptied (possibly by people using fivers in lieu of elusive bog roll?).  I finally got my money up the High Street and returned to find no one attending the shop.  Shit…maybe this weekend — at another vendor.

Or, maybe not.  Pubs are now closed for the national good (it happened less than an hour after this ill fated shopping attempt); can seed banks be far behind?  I did make it to the Old Talbot a mile up the road before the PM called time on bars, but only just, before continuing on via the canals.

8.5 miles and a future as uncertain as domesticated spices grown wild.  One can only keep the faith.