I woke up this morning with ashes in my mouth and a hysterical hard rock band pounding in my head. It's one of those days you just want to go back to sleep. But beside me sat my little peecat alert and very hungry for something good. So I dragged myself up.

No, I do not have swine flu I sat up and drank clean too much wine and everything else feels like.

Listened to old raspy LP records from the mid seventies. And dreamed me back to the days when my whole life lay ahead of me and there were endless possibilities.

In any case, I decided that gardening work was an appropriate way to pass the day. Fresh air would make things better.

I go into my studio to get a pair of gloves and when I'm going to take off my earrings, I lose one of the trolleybuses, they're actually called that. That little thing that sits on the back of the ear and holds the earring. Now the studio floor consists of quite raw concrete so small things that end up there tend to be gone forever.

After crawling about a quarter of an hour, I give up. It's gone.

I stack out to my purple tractor / mower and connect my little trailer. I am ready to participate in the healing work.

After a little while, the tractor begins to behave strangely, unable to climb a hill higher than a mole pile. I try to help and push on and the nausea beats like high waves over me.

Yes I know, the inevitable has now happened I have to repair the machine a work I with a happy heart have postponed for a long time. Time to call around to find someone who has all the parts I need and I find a company a few miles away but now it's of course lunch and I have to wait.

Eating soup.

The man in the store looks a little patronizing and half scared at me when I try to joke about it. “Then it's just driving home and screwing now then.” I look at him that he doesn't believe in me. I'm actually pretty good at fixing things even though I hate screwing things up.

It takes two hours to repair the tractor. I'm sick.

Then it's time for the haircut and everything works fine until I'm halfway through. Then the rain comes. There I sit on my lawn wet and nauseous and wonder if my first reaction this morning was real. I should have stayed in bed.

But now I'm sitting here on the terrace with a cup of coffee. The tractor is repaired, I found the spinning bus eventually and the lawn looks unusually good. And the cat has a big wash of a paw next to me.

Hmmm, maybe a glass of wine. Perhaps Tomas Ledin “On wings of steel”. It was a good day after all.