Sunday 1st November (part 2)

Sunday

And just as I catch up on my travels and activities, I have to leave for Denmark in the morning, which means it being Sunday night, I am packed, checked in and all ready to go, just need a good nights sleep, really. But, with the house shrouded in fog, or it was half an hour ago, but now we can see the other side of the valley, it feels autumnal, even if it was over twenty degrees this morning as we worked in the garden.

Today was the first day of November, but the mild weather of yesterday stretched into today, and if anything, it was even warmer. At least until the sea mist and fog rolled in just before lunch, but by then we had been busy bees.

We were awake at six, and with the light creeping round the side of the curtains, and the demanding meows of our feline overlords not letting us go back to sleep, we get up, make coffee and search online to see the latest news. No real good news anywhere, so I go to the sofa to watch the previous day's football, laugh at Chelski and groan as Norwich manage to grab defeat from the jams of an honourable draw. I look outside at seven fifteen and think we should be out enjoying the glorious sunshine. So we get dressed, pull on our boots and I grab the camera for a walk up to Windy Ridge and a general roaming in the morning gloaming.

Along the path at the end of the street, between two recently ploughed and planted fields. The pigs were up, and not interested in us, although there was just the one piglet, best not to ask where his brothers and sisters were. Past the farm and up the hill to the wood, where a couple of families in an old Escort van had pitched a small tent, clearly camping, and boiling water on a bivvy for a brew. We bid them good morning before turning east towards Kingsdown, surveying the scene as the warm sun made long shadows of the hedgerows.

Back through the wood, past the campers and Windy Ridge itself. And oddly, very few fungi to be seen, just a few fresh King Alfred's cakes on a fallen branch.

The final leg was into the sun as we turned for home, but already the bright morning was turning hazy. We have breakfast, I watch the rest of the football. By then Jools is in the garden digging another couple of beds for the last of the bulbs. I go out and together we finish the job in under an hour. All we need now is spring to come so we can see the display of colour.

But by now the sun was up as high as it was going to get, and it was warm enough to drink a cuppa outside. Warm enough to feel like summer really. But already we could see the sea mist rolling in, and in half an hour the fine, sunny days had been replaced by thickening fog. We go in, but that means going back to our hobbies and listening to Huey on the radio.

There is more football on the radio; oh go on then, I put the radio on just in time to hear another Sunderland collapse. So it goes.

Outside it gets dark, and the fog thickens. There are no sounds, even from the port. I cook dinner, yet more breaded pork, which is darn good even if I say so myself.

And that is the day, really. Time to shower, pack and check flights and travel for the morning, but that now depends on the weather. It could be a long day, before I am in the hotel, all safe and snug.

Until Thursday.