Wordsley, Stourbridge, England: 13 degrees, cold, overcast and with rain.
It’s Friday, and after a crazy week due to the Labour Day bank holidays, with Brazil’s Labour Day on Wednesday and England’s on Monday.
Just a normal Friday of classes, a blog post, an entry in my journal, and buying some crypto. All the usual things that make up my typical day. However, I also visited a house to rent, watered the new back lawn with the new hose I had bought the day before, and met Julie for dinner, which we did not have.
Luke, the owner of the Greasy Cow Café, is the simpler of the two cafés in Wordsley. The Café on the Green, run by Jim, the Scottish owner, is the more sophisticated of the two, while the Greasy Cow is the more basic. Julie calls Luke a big greaser—an enormous man, probably weighing around 150 kilos—who I get the impression is just a gentle giant.
My mother also sees Luke as a bit of a young Arthur Daley, a cheap young gangster and wheeler-dealer from an 80s TV series in England in the past. A character driven by making quick money and has his fingers in many different pies.
However, his cafe needs a lot of work and attention and dedication, while he doesn’t seem willing to put in the necessary effort, sacrifice, attention to detail, or responsibility needed to make it successful.
I’m considering renting a place if I decide to stay in England. Brazil is in chaos, and my mother’s health is declining, so I feel she will need my support more and more in the future. Additionally, my relationship with Julie is not 100% clear. While we get along very well, there are still some question marks.
I had arranged to meet Luke a little after 2:00 p.m. He would take me to see his house, which he wants to put up for rent. He had recently separated from the mother of his young son and wants to rent it out, unofficially, without declaring it or with a contract.
The house is a small two-bedroom townhouse that is relatively new and modern, probably built 10 to 15 years ago.
It is at the end of a housing estate within easy access to the canal, where it is possible to go for long walks; this, for me, is a super plus. When we pulled up, there were two or three cars in the drive, and a Range Rover that was cut in half, with the front part laid next to the back of the car, all in pieces. Everything looked old, broken or in more or less bad shape, strewn everywhere over the drive and the tiny garden at the front.
It was clear that it was a nice little modern house that was not looked after. Everything was tatty, dirty or broken; it showed me who were living there were living a slovenly way of life. We entered the house and went into the main living room and the kitchen, cupboards broken and a massive hole in the countertop.
Going out into the back garden, there was a small fake plastic lawn with dog shit everywhere. The side fence looked out onto the canal, which is very charming and with the right person, there could be a little pier that would go down from the garden and extend onto the canal, making it a nice little place in the evening, or at weekends.
Upstairs was not much different. Two nice little bedrooms, but everything was badly kept. It was just tatty, it was just slovenly and slobbish. A person would need a good month or two to put the house up to normal decent living conditions with a lot of cleaning and repairs.
Luke kindly gave me a lift back down to Wordsley, with the understanding I would think about it over the weekend. When I got home, I gave classes, and later in the afternoon, I watered the lawn and did a bit of gardening.
My mother had paid to have the lawn relayed, basically, Wayne the gardener to rip out the old lawn and relay it with new turf. Wayne had done it yesterday, even though it is a small lawn, it had made a big difference. He told me that I would have to water it for 20 minutes every day for the next two weeks, and this is why I bought a new hose, as the old one was in terrible condition.
Gardening and watering the lawn is pure therapy for me. It feels so good that I often find myself spending an hour tending to the plants, tidying the garden, filling the bird feeders, and taking care of anything that’s out of place.
I love every minute of it. Gardening is life, and I believe that if you can garden regularly and have a dog, you don’t need a therapist.
Later in the evening, Julie rang me wanting to go out because she was hungry. I wasn’t very keen on going out, but we did. She came with Austin, and we went to the Old Wharf and strolled along the canal. We had walked about a kilometre and a half when it started to rain. Even though it was cold, damp, and a little wet, the canal in the rain was really quite beautiful.
I love it!!!
Back at the car, as the rain got heavier, our plan was to leave Austin and the car at her parents’ home, go for a drink at The Old Market Tavern, catch up with our favourite barman, and then have a Balti around the corner.
The pub was not very full, and to meet Grant, the barman was very nice. However, we spent so much time talking to Grant that we lost track of time, and it was too late for a Balti. Julie was obviously disappointed, but what could we do? I took her home, and then I walked back to mine.
A lovely day spent learning by viewing a property, a bit of easy and cheap therapy from watering the new lawn and doing a bit of gardening. A walk along the canal is always enjoyable. Even in the rain, it remains sublime, and meeting people who like us is always a pleasure.
In bed by 10:00 p.m.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
