Friday, 15 May 2009


Today I have been to see Jilly, the miracle worker.

I make my own garden compost out of all green garden waste, cardboard and newspapers, vegetable kitchen waste and grass clippings; after six months or so, the resulting mess is excellent stuff, dark and friable, crumbly and sweetly earthy, smelling of nothing so much as goodness. You can tell, I love the stuff? Sure, I do. There's nothing more satisfying than deeply covering a bed in it, and myself in the process. The plants positively sigh in ecstasy.

Gardener regularly turns the heaps for me; it is rather hard work. Unfortunately, he tends to overfill the bags, once the compost is ready, making it almost impossible for me to help myself to the pure gold when he's not here, which is most of the time.

So there I am, pushing and pulling, shoving and heaving, trying to fill a wheelbarrow. It's my back that pays the penalty, leaving me bent and crippled.

Which is where Jilly comes in. Jilly is a tiny person with healing hands. Boy, can she do massage! I lie down on her couch a cripple and get off ........... still a cripple, but of a different sort and for a short time only. Her clever hands pummel and knead, digging deep, isolating and homing in on the most painful knots and stiffest muscles, working on them until they give in and dissolve and I emerge bruised and battered, but once again straight backed and upright. Smelling beautifully, too, because Jilly works her miracles using the essential oils of aromatherapy.

Now this is what I would spend a lot of money on, When I am Rich, should I ever get rich. Clouds and diamonds are all very well, but, to my mind, nothing beats an hour's worth of close personal attention. 


  1. I loved this post, Friko! At my blog I left you a comment that I love my composter also. But now that I've read your post I see that you are much more the compost wizard than I am. I use all our green garden waste and kitchen waste, plus leaves and twigs from the yard. I had no idea you could use newspaper and cardboard! You must have a big outside pile? Our composter is a round plastic receptacle that stands about four feet tall, with a lid and vents, plus a bottom shoot where I will extract the first soil from it soon. I LOVE the smell of the compost when I open the lid! I think we share this absolute delight in that!
    My husband is too busy with work to do the tiny garden with me this year. Time is running short. I am going to experiment with pulling up the dead plants from last year and working the compost soil in. Then I'll get some plants and seeds in there before next week passes.
    I wonder if my roses would like a taste of the compost soil. From what you wrote here it makes me think they would!

    Secondly, my massage therapist is named Carol. I've gone for a massage from her once a month (sometimes twice) for over ten years. I think you described the need for massage and the experience of it perfectly here.

    I see your reading list includes Isabel Allende. Have your read Daughter of Fortune? It's one of my favorite books. My mother gave me her copy of House of Spirits back when I shared Daughter with her, and it's still on my shelves. I'm behind in my reading and am frustrated by that....

  2. HI Lydia,
    Thanks for the above; I'll come over to you re composting, etc.
    Thanks for becoming a follower, you'll have noticed that I joined you some time ago. Greetings, Friko

  3. Jilly sounds wonderful - perhaps I'll borrow her!
    My 'gardening' today consisted of ten minutes spent trying to help the sweet pea seedlings twine around the trellis I'm hoping they will cover - only to have the wind immediately un-twine them. No aches and pains - just frustration!


Comments are good, I like to know what you think of my posts. I know you'll keep it civil.