Weekend solipsism

My loo (the room, not the facility) smells of basil. Weird enough in itself; but earlier in the week it smelled of lavender. Now I’m not the cleanest homeowner, but my toilet area is usually little worse that dusty. However, I don’t use air fresheners or exciting bleach – airiness is achieved by leaving the window open (indeed my predecessors had wedged the window open, then painted over the wedges. Initially I saw it as a challenge, but fairly quickly I realised they had a point).

So what on earth is going on outside? Am I piggybacking on someone else’s (overpriced and unnecessarily technological, I’ll wager) freshness solution? Or has someone figured out how to grow basil in December?

Other weekend news: I cycled the long way to New Malden (yes – I CHOSE to go via Mitcham – what of it?), drank mulled wine and ate cheese, then cycled my fixie back up a hill a *proper* cyclist had dared me to attempt (for those who don’t know Copse Hill in Wimbledon, its fearsomeness makes L’Alpe d’Huez look like Putney Bridge, and for those who do know it, shhh). Easy. Honest.

Oh, and I also chose to follow the X factor on Twitter, mainly courtesy of my better half whose tweeting reached near-lethal levels. What a pile of old toss, eh. And it’s rigged. And yet…

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