On Saturday morning I woke up as fresh as a supermarket bouquet daisy, by which I mean I wasn’t hungover, but I had convinced myself I’d heard footsteps in the hallway around 3am so I wasn’t particularly rested. Wilting slightly at the edges perhaps.

My housemate Bec usually looks after the garden stuff, but with her away it was my duty to water all of the green stuff outside our house. It sounds like a simple task, but fumbling around with sprinklers soon left me completely drenched. One of the front sprinklers has the will and might of one of its football oval counterparts. Still, it was an opportunity to stop and smell the roses, while the neighbour’s cat wound herself around my ankles.

There really is nothing more twee than a white picket fence, is there?

Having endured enjoyed hearing about my boss’ rose garden almost every Monday for the last 4 months it was good to finally whip out my phone and show him these photos this morning. He said these roses were called Double Delight:

I didn’t have the heart to tell him the Double Delights are now distinctly dead after copping a beating from the harsh Goldfields sun all weekend.

After feeling rather self righteous about my newly established green thumb, I went off to have breakfast with the girls. Following advice from one of my breakfast companions I ordered Eggs Benedict with bacon. I can’t tell you how what a relief it is to cut into a perfectly cooked egg in this town.

Yolk lava

They are often devastatingly overdone. I was also pleased with the light smattering of Hollandaise sauce, as opposed to the usual deluge.

The rest of the weekend involved good friends, good drinks, good cheese and a very good amount of couch time. How was your weekend?