Nonchalance

What lovely bright days we've had most of this week. I spent some time in the garden each day, cutting dead things back, hauling out the violets that try to take over the front garden and end up choking less aggressive plants, and generally clearing up. I've removed all the earth from my dahlias and they are standing upside down in the garage in their boxes to completely dry out before being tucked into little beds of compost. There's still loads to be done before I retire for the winter, but they are nice jobs. Finally I can look out and not feel a hint of despair that I'll never get on top of the basic jobs, ie getting the structure right. I bless the day my neighbour Mike came to tea and sketched out a plan for me on a pad. Once I had a design in my mind I was able to zoom ahead.

Coming back from the hairdressers this afternoon with those twin familiar sensations of soaking collar and prickly underwear, I spotted a large herd of deer in a field not far from Wilby. I glimpsed the shapes through a thinning hedge, and when I slowed down to look there they were, a group of around 20 nonchalantly ambling around and munching the grass, impervious to my curiosity. If I hadn't been starving I'd have lingered longer. It's always such a cheering sight, knowing they are out there living their lives as they always have, finding a way to negotiate the ever-expanding human presence.

The other high spot of the day was hearing that George Osborne has abandoned his plans to cut tax credits. Meeting people every week who depend on these benefits to boost miserable wages and scrape a living, it's a relief to know those proposed cuts won't add to their constant worry about making ends meet. One lady this week, asked if her income exceeded £50,000, had a prolonged coughing/laughing fit as she managed finally to say "You're having a laugh aren't you? £5,000 more like." People talk in amazement of friends or neighbours who earn £10 an hour as if this is riches beyond their wildest dreams. The older ones are so good-humoured, so accepting of their lot. It makes you see red.