The town jeweller has died. He took over the business from his father, so he and his shop have been part of the town’s architecture for a long time. A woman he knows in M&S told him about it yesterday. I questioned how she had heard about it, being from Aberaeron. Oh, everyone will know, he said. When I walked past his shop this morning (all boarded up) I saw that someone had placed a small pot of mauve chrysanthemums on the step.
The geraniums been looking so tired, and knotty and gnarled. It was time. So I pulled them out this morning before my work. It was a violent act. They’d put in such roots. Soil went everywhere and the hall light, being a push in timer switch kept going off. It was almost comical. I didn’t like doing it. I don’t like killing things. And it felt like a murder. I will plant hyacinths in their stead. But for now I want the blankness. The sweet peas are still flowering. I took one of the seed pods (wait until they are papery, the website said) and, not being sure what to do with it I placed it on a dish in the kitchen. Eating breakfast I heard a noise, a kind of ripping, but couldn’t work out where it came from. He didn’t notice it. When I looked it was the pod, it had split open of it own accord. Six seeds. I will keep them in a bag and plant them next year. Who knows?
Drew again yesterday afternoon, though the wind in the harbour was unrelenting. I will return today and perhaps with some crayons.
