Bitch on the Blog

April 6, 2014


Filed under: Books,Earth — bitchontheblog @ 22:24
Tags: , , , , ,

Sweethearts, what can I say? You don’t know what you are being spared.

I will start posts only to be interrupted. Which is fine. Doesn’t matter. Hours later returning to them I am so happy I never got to press ‘publish’. What the hell was all that about? I do write some truly incomprehensible stuff. Maybe I should employ a finely meshed sieve to filter a momentary fallout. A bit like getting rid of lumps when making Sauce Bechamel (white by another name).

The only reason I am writing this minute because I need a garden. Urgently. Let’s leave aside that I love all things soil, growing, weeds and dandelions: I am getting more and more disenchanted with the world of print. Print which has dominated my life before I could even read. I read on a wide spectrum of genres. Both for professional and private purposes. But more and more – a couple of hundred pages in – I feel like flinging the matter into the next corner. Obviously I’d never do that to a book. I just close it. An image of the glutton who has overeaten does come to mind. Saturated to the point of nausea.

It’s disconcerting. I visit some of my old friends on the shelves with joy and recognition. Yet, with new stuff coming into my focus I am overcome with a certain ennui. If someone had forecast this as recently as a couple of years ago I would have laughed in disbelief.

Yes, so I need a garden, a field. Soil. Something to grow. Something solid. Something to stick a spade and fork into.




  1. i know exactly how you feel! i’m no gardener but an actual real life conversation or some honest cooking seem to be deeply therapeutic

    Comment by kylie — April 6, 2014 @ 22:29 | Reply

    • Kylie, I don’t need therapy. I need something to get my teeth into. Or rather my hands on. Like soil. Oh do I miss all those snails, cats, squirrels advancing on my plants. Not to mention black fly.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — April 7, 2014 @ 06:02 | Reply

  2. I was under the impression that each one of your posts was a carefully crafted work of art.

    Speaking of gardens, would a terrarium do?

    Comment by Looney — April 7, 2014 @ 01:58 | Reply

    • “Carefully crafted work of art”? I do appreciate a bit of sarcasm in disguise, Looney.

      No, a terrarium will not do. You can’t dig over a terrarium. But thanks for the thought. One of these days, in absence of a cat, I shall get a goldfish.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — April 7, 2014 @ 05:56 | Reply

  3. You did say that you were in a long queue for an allotment. In the meanwhile, you can do what a lot of my city folk are doing. In fact something that I always admired about Germany in the summers. Balcony gardens.

    Comment by Rummuser — April 7, 2014 @ 02:03 | Reply

    • Thanks for your thoughtful link. Alas … don’t ask. It’ll only be a matter of time before I fire myself into orbit only to land on an overgrown piece of land again.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — April 7, 2014 @ 06:04 | Reply

  4. Okay grab a spade and follow the zombies over there. How do you mean what are we digging for? Just do it, the less you know the better but I can promise you a wicked time and a nice drink of pop afterwards. Yes of course with a straw, I am civilised you know.

    Happy Monday Dear Ursula.

    Andro xxxx

    Comment by Gray Dawster — April 7, 2014 @ 08:05 | Reply

    • My dear Andro, with the benefit of hindsight I can confirm that your good wish came true: My Monday was indeed happy if not particularly productive.

      One of these days, and it’s a promise, I will pop over to yours. In hope of not getting even more distracted than I usually am. Sometimes I wish I were more than one person. That way I could delegate parts of my life and luxuriate.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — April 8, 2014 @ 04:05 | Reply

      • You know that whenever you call by that you will be welcome, I might even make you a nice cup of something, whatever you wish.

        I am pleased that you had a happy Monday and if today follows on with happiness then even better.

        Andro xxxx

        Comment by Gray Dawster — April 8, 2014 @ 09:54 | Reply

  5. Mm! Head this way… the longest spell of digging I can cope with these days is between half and an hour.
    My sympathies. I do understand that terrible feeling about good things becoming devalued in some way. It happens with music. I’m tryiong to thik of something physical that you could do in the meantime.

    A thought:

    Comment by magpie11 — April 7, 2014 @ 17:26 | Reply

    • I am a gardener at heart – no doubt about it. How often do I joke I’d have made an ideal farmer’s wife? All that fresh dung. Steam rising. And the smell. I tell you there is nothing better than growing up in the country side. It’ll set you up for whatever shit life will throw at you. Where there is muck there is brass – try and tell that a EU subsidised farmer. My ‘brass’ was the joy of watching things grow.

      My greatest love are so called ‘kitchen gardens’ – preferably walled. Appeals to me on all levels – it’s enclosed, it’s practical, it’s sensual and you can use it in your cooking. Yes, it’s definitely one of my more romantic notions.

      There have only been two periods in my life I found myself without soil to till: One in my very early adulthood and now for the last three years. I pushed my first sunflower seed into soil when I was tiny (it grew much taller than my grandfather), my father dug over my first sizeable bed (underneath an apple tree) and showed me how to make neat drills before sowing. And my mother bought parsley off me, at ten pfennig per handful.The apple tree I used to climb with a book. There was a particular fork among the branches which was as good as a comfy deckchair. One autumn – I must have been about eleven – a storm took the tree down during the night. Felled it. Right across my flower/vegetable bed. Strange moment that next morning. I wasn’t so much heart broken as astonished at the force of nature. We moved shortly after anyway. So, yes, most my life, certainly my adult life, I always had ‘garden’, lots of it, and a spade. And I will again.

      It’s a cliche, yet as with most cliches there is truth in it: You will know what you miss once it’s absent. Someone once said to me that my life appears to be one of “loss”. I don’t see it like that at all. More like ebb and tide. Like the moon – waxing and waning. Riding a wave. Or a bike – the odd flat tyre will happen.

      Before I continue writing my autobiography as best as I remember my life I shall stop here. For the moment.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — April 8, 2014 @ 04:00 | Reply

      • I’m a country boy at heart…… but we moved around so much and then I was shoved off to the Grammar School so I did not really have much chance to grow things myself….. at about three or four I grew nasturtiumsa nd then got into trouble for going out in the rain to pick some fro my mother. I remember it well.

        When we lived at Tunstead i was intrigued by the gardener’s winter bed. He barrowed topsoil ont ot he top of the dung heap then set up Dutch lights (cold frames) on top and grew salads during the winter. then he planted his seed s up there.

        I struggled today to set up wires for the raspberries. The clay is so wet that the well knocked in posts just leant over with the strain…. I knocked them in at least 75 cms…… with about 100 above ground…. back to the drawing board.

        Good luck with your garden search… another thing to put o my list for when I have that huge lottery win…. one cottage with large walled kitchen garden for Ursula. Actually that must be the third or fourht on the list… ther’s me. Youngest, Ursula and someone else I know who I won’t mention.

        Comment by magpie11 — April 9, 2014 @ 18:30 | Reply

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