The grey clouds were thin. The only beings out were me and the bids, who were chattering, whistling, squawking and clucking.
The view was green, dark greens, emerald greens, light green and that silvery green that shines on the back of leaves.
The smells were early morning. Peppery, sharp and almost Mediterranean.
I met but one jogger who had his ears stuffed with running music, he managed a tight 'Gd Moang.'
By the time I got to the ROCKS the sun was shining, weakly, through the clouds. The Rocks are millions of years old, if you look at them long enough there are faces. One massive ET smile, one crouched. I held onto one. The Stone People, as the Native Americans call them, will be around a lot longer than I.
Then the rabbits started darting into holes, round hills, up banks and under cover. White bushy tales disappearing. Three new molehills, a robin perched on top of one of them, and several old mounds.
By the time I got home it was 7.45. I've made my bitter gourde juice - which is disgusting - am drinking my hot lemon, and when they awake it'll be some kind of breakfast.
The dawter is home to collect her car. She's working long hours to pay her rent, and fitting in her music. She will be rewarded - her kind of dedication doesn't go unnoticed by the universe. Does it?
The old git has been sent a play, which he may or may not do. I'm attempting to discipline myself. Three hours minimum writing and the rest of the time just doing my thang.
Which at the moment is gardening. I have cuts and grazes on my fingers, forgot to put my gloves on, whilst planting garlic. Jim and I have done it together. Never been known. Is this the onset of old age, filling in your time? Or is it to do with the sheer pleasure of waiting for the shoots to appear?
The bin men are here. The sound of bottles being dumped is like Dean Street at 3.00a.m.
Tomatoes, onions, beans, peas, carrots, potatoes, kale and lettuce. I've got rocket, coriander and sage to plant. And I've treated myself to two different scented geraniums. Outside the kitchen window. Every time I walk past i rub the leaves. Mmmmm. Women's plant I'm told.
So five days into May and I'm not dead. Now that's a result.
Jeni Barnett tells of her scrumptious time at Good Food Live in her first audiobook! Download NOW from iTunes
Don't drink disgusting things. life's too short.