I’m just waking up. A moment ago I opened my blind and the early morning sun flooded into my room.

The roses in the garden have just come into bloom and when they caught my eye my tics came flooding out:

“Good morning rose heads.”
“Roses, you’re more glamorous than curling tongs.”
“Roses, stop flirting with the lamp-post.”

My friend Stuart planted them almost exactly a year ago and this is the first time they’ve flowered. It’s also the first time my tics have struck up a conversation with them.

I’m intrigued to see if this is a one-off exchange or the start of a blooming of a relationship.

I’ll keep you posted.