It has taken me a while to realise that I love flowers. I like buying them for myself. They are completely useless (objectively speaking) yet bring me so much joy. And there is something incredibly satisfying about buying flowers for oneself.
They are pure visual stimulation, and yet imply many vastly different things – feelings, time passing, location, motivation.
Over the last weeks, I have been eyeing up flowers in the supermarkets and shops where I buy food. Every time, I was tempted to forgo my ban on packaging and revel in the delight of floral decoration. But I held fast and finally went over to Ferns to buy myself a flower. I chose this rose. The lady was going to wrap it in cellophane when I interrupted her and requested to take it away without. She did give me some plant food, and also the receipt. Gotta get round that next time!
I walked home, holding the rose’s long stem, feeling very happy in my cold, cold Glasgow.