Tuesday 19th September 2017

9th wedding anniversary.

Yes, it was nine years ago we got married, and if you look at the blog for this date in 2008, you can read all about it.

Saying that, I managed to sleep in until after Jools had left early for work. She left me a note wishing me happy anniversary. But I should have got up. So, instead of the promised dinner I said I would make, I decided I would book a table at The Smugglers in the village so we could walk there in the evening and have a glass of wine or two.

The cats are all in place, already snoozing after their breakfast, so I am alone in the house, go down to make the first coffee of the day.

September seems to have the best weather of the year, it is why we chose to be married in this month to be honest, and we were rewarded with a warm golden day. And we got the same on Tuesday, once the sun rose, it cast long, long shadows in the warm golden light, and making the heavy dew sparkle.

Oh well, I will spend the day at the dining room table working away. As usual.

At four, with the sun still shining warmly down, I think it high time I went for a walk over the fields, just to see the state of the hedgerow fruit, and see what was flowering.

Sure enough, the hedgerow along the lane was full of blackberries. Many full to bursting with sweet juice. I try many, and they really were sweet. Already the elderberries have all gone over, and there are few sloes left, mainly thanks to folks like us making sloe gin. The hedgerows were also full of skylarks, all singing away, apparently also happy with their lot in life. They are in the hedges as the fields are now bare, all harvested, ploughed and harrowed.

Onwards to the butterfly glade, and with the buddleia and willowherb all finished for the year, there was no butterflies on the wing, and a single Migrant Hawkers patrols round and round the glade, looking for bugs to feat upon. It might be a vicious predator, but it is also a beautiful one, and if you listen carefully you can hear its wings clicking together as it patrols.

The copse is pigless still, and probably will be until the spring. Out over the fields horses stand forlornly in brightly coloured coats, looking at the short grass they try to get a meal from. I walk down the dip, at least to the metal gate anyway, and it looks pretty dry down there, but with the dark clouds rushing in from the west, I turn for home.

The day passes, and Jools comes home to find me freshly showered and clearly no dinner is cooking. Are we going for a walk she says? Yes I say, to the pub. She seems happy with the turn of events, so has a shower too so we are both freshly laundered and looking our best.

At half six we set off, in good spirits as we walk down Station Road, passing the new house being built at the bottom, then huffing and puffing up the other side into the village. I think the altitude training is still in effect as we only stop once to look at the view of the setting sun away in the west.

Once we walk into the village, we arrive at the pub; would we like a drink to start? I believe we would. We toast our good life together and then both study the mene, knowing that we would both have the Tournedos Rossini, cooked rare. Which is what we do.

We also order a bottle of prosecco to go with it, so when the meal arrives, fillet steak, pate and mushrooms all covered in a wonderful madeira sauce, we toast ourselves again, this time with fizzy Italian wine. We didn't need to have booked a table, as there were just two others dining, but its nice to know there was one waiting. I round it off with a cheeseboard which came with a free glass of port. Which was nice, and Jools has creme brulee.

A fine end to the meal.

I pay the bill and we walk down Station Road, now in darkness, so we have to shield our eyes from the headlights of approaching cars. And we reach home, tired out and stuffed wit good food and wine. Jools soons bails on the evening, but I have to wait until half nine because there's football to pay attention to, with Norwich playing at glamourous Brentford in the League Cup, or whatever its called this week. And we win again, 3-1, but means that the nearly 400 minutes since conceded a goal record has gone. Oh well, will have to just be satisfied with just winning.