My friend and I are very different. She grew into a lovely, glamorous young lady, with a high-flying career and fast paced lifestyle. She is always immaculately turned out, and somehow seems to be in on the things that are "happening" before they have even actually happened.
I am somewhat different. I work two days a week in the easiest job known to mankind, I am still studying at uni for some unknown reason, and I am a veritable grub who has dirt under her fingernails 24/7. I could cheerfully go out in my pyjamas if it were socially acceptable.
Nevertheless, none of this matters when we get together.
While I was talking to my friend on our first call for the year, for some reason or another I mentioned that I was writing a gardening blog. My friend almost spat out her coffee into the mouth piece and laughed, "is that the best you could come up with?", she said.
After I got off the phone I took a little wander around and had a think. I thought of all the hard work I have put into my blog, into taking the best photographs I can and into writing as well as I could. I thought of all the lovely blogging friends I have come to know, about how I am always eager to hear from them and their news.
And then I thought of the garden. I thought of the really hard work I have put into it, of how proud I have been of my small successes and how I have come to learn to accept the failures. I thought of my beautiful bananas, and our lovely chickens, and the beautiful garden beds that I am so smitten with.
And I thought to myself, actually, yes.
This is absolutely the best I could come up with.