Opium for London!

Got your hopes up, eh? I'm terribly sorry, but I couldn't come up with a better title. To be fair, it's a rather suitable one because I'm mainly reporting about the roof garden and there, the poppies have begun to flower. I don't think I've ever seen one up close or even touched one, but I can now say they're really really pretty. Interesting that they come in different colours and the pale one looks a big creased. Nature is a wonderful thing.
We also have our first tomatoes and courgettes flowering and the nasturtium, too. Sun and water are the main ingredients for growing. Speaking of water, here a fun picture:
Four water cans, three tabs (on opposite sides of the garden) and I. Since the hosing ban, we can only water with watering cans and let me tell you, the about 80 boxes we have take a lot of it. So there was me, running back and forth between the tabs and the flower beds and in between the guys who put up the inflatable roof. (Fascinating how much work is involved and how long it takes.) Every now and again I poured some fluid (tea) into me, and then went ahead. My arms are certainly a few inches longer and my already flat feet are now straight, methinks.
When all was done, three hours had gone and I thought it's time for a beer. I was joined by the florist, whose flowerpots I also watered, leaving him jobless for the day. I honestly didn't know they employed a gardener and I was in full swing with my watering, so I just poured water into anything that looked dry. Erin, and I had a good laugh over a beer. A knackering, but pleasant day it was. Guess I'll sleep well tonight.

I'm not Grammar Jesus

Well, that's what I've been told yesterday and I had to laugh at that statement. Guess what? The person was right. This particular person -- presumably an author -- is trying to sell his book. And he seems to think no matter what it takes. People have repeatedly pointed out that the book is full of errors, so is the blurb.
He seems unwilling to correct any of them. Not even one.Now call me cynical, but I doubt this book will succeed.
After I pointed out that his one-liner had eight errors in it, he told me I'm not Grammar Jesus. Heck, I don't want to be Jesus anyway. I'd rather be a Grammar Nazi, because that would mean my grammar is impeccable, which is not the case. But I have hope.
At the moment, I'm learning the past of the past, as I call it, or probably better known as past perfect. All those names don't mean anything to me to be honest; I learn it all by heart.
My poor friend Tom is the one who suffers, as I'm sending him excerpts from the thriller, asking him to highlight anything wrong so I can fix it and he kindly helps me on my quest to learn and improve.

Speaking of the thriller: after I've finally had the breakthrough with the rough storyline, the writing flows. Sort of. My daily goal is 1000 words and so far, I've managed apart from one day, where I only wrote 500. Better than nothing, right? I hope to have the first draft complete by mid May. So pull up your knickers, it's getting hot, my dears.

Hot was it in London today and I spent the whole day on the roof, writing, chatting to people and then partaking in the workshop for us gardeners. As a result I brought home 1200 words, half a proposal written and a full blown sunburn. Oh and an aching body. Ho hum.