

a writer's notebook

Status update: so I ordered ten bare-root raspberry canes for twenty quid the other day. They turned up today, a day early. So I’ve had to spend ninety minutes soaking them and containerising them. I repotted the six bare root blueberry bushes I bought for a tenner before Xmas and had to shelter in the plastic mini-greenhouse for a month because of the long freeze, too. So I’m a little behind. But raspberries are my partner’s favourite berry, so we’re going to see if I can’t give her fresh ones from the garden in the future. And, since I’ve been at the desk or hunched over a notebook continuously for some while now, the exercise and air was good for me. Sticking my finger in random cat shit laid behind a weed I needed to pull out to situate this pot, not so much.
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Bare-root apple trees have arrived. They do look dead, but they are (or should be!) just dormant. I’m soaking the roots in a tub of rainwater for an hour before planting them in containers. One’s a Bloody Ploughman, from Scotland, the other a Christmas Pearmain. I have two other, more local apple trees coming in to bridge the pollination groups.
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Published January 2, 2023 by Warren Ellis

Excellent gallery accompanies this interview. Great inventions, stunning perspectival skills in some of it – there’s Escher in there, but also a real sense of modern comedy. Something to study.
A previous note on architecture and art.
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I have spent all day sawing, pruning and cutting. I am tired and covered in scratches and I am entirely happy. In my little patch of darkening England, out here on the Thames Delta, there is new light. It feels really good. I feel young.
Also I couldn’t do work because I got whipped right in the eyeball by a wisteria vine but what the hell
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