Sunday 17th September 2017

As I said yesterday, for most of the last 6 weeks, mostly because I wanted to, I have been on a mission. Or several missions. Heading here and there, snapping away. And there comes a time, when all you want, all you crave, is a quiet day at home. Jools had bought bacon and fresh bread, so breakfast was sorted. I lazed around, sorting through pictures from Saturday, writing blogs, then come about eight, cook the bacon.

As it is September, the Christmas cake(s) really need baking, so I volunteer to do the shopping run to Tesco, to get dried fruit, chopped nuts, glace cherries and all the other stuff we need. In fact Tesco was OK at half ten in the morning, the initial rush was over, and the slugabeds had yet to get there, so I could go round and get what was needed and be home in time for elevenses.

The baking of the cake involves whisking dark brown sugar and butter together for 15 minutes, until the mix goes pale brown, almost golden. Add the beaten eggs, slowly so not to curdle. Add the booze, then the flower. Finally fold in the fruit, turn mixture out into a tin and bake for four and one half hours. As it also contains allspice, it smells like Christmas.

Jools works in the garden, and I mess about until I begin the ritual of trimming the grass around the beds and at the edge of the lawn/meadow, as I would be cutting it with the mower inbetween the football matches.

THere was no rain, instead the cool and cloudy morning gave way to warm sunshine, and warm enough to eat the vanilla tart on the patio with Jools. Then to the sofa to listen to the Chelski v Arse game on the wireless, and quite dull it is too, as there are no goals, and I had to listen on awful Talk Sport too. If I would have paid to hear it, I would have demanded my money back!

Before the second game, I get the mower out and give the grass a good trim. And once done it looks half presentable.

I retire back to the sofa to listen to the next game, so memorable that I have already forgotten who played. But there were goals. I'm pretty sure.

Dinner is chorizo hash washed down with pink fizz, and it pretty darned good too even if I say so myself. Desert Island Discs is back on air, so we can listen to that when we eat, and life seems pretty good, een if it is Sunday night, but we have no homework to do, just be up in the morning. I have a shave and shower to celebrate, call Mum to tell her our news, and that is the weekend pretty much all gone.

Phew, rock and roll.