Saturday 28th October 2017

Winter is coming.

From the back room window, overlooking the dip, most tree are in the process of shedding leaves, those that are left are turning to gold and red. And the sure sign that it is nearly winter is the tree that stands between the house and a view of the Dover Patrol Monument now has lost enough leaves for the monument to be seen through its boughs. The news is taking of a shift in the wind to the north tomorrow and the first frosts of the season. Brrr.

I awake with Scully still asleep beside me, Mulder on the chest of drawers and he was still snoozing, but Molly was already doing her pre-breakfast stretches as I climb down the stairs. Jools was due to leave Lowestoft sometime that morning, so could be home any time from about two onwards. So, I feed the cats, make a coffee and check on the internet to see if Trump had resigned overnight, or Brexit had been stopped. We live in hope.

Neither had happened, I edit some shots, post them, have breakfast and get dressed, ready for some more manual labour; the rest of the bed needed digging. I go outside, and despite looking autumnal, it is already quite warm, and could soon do away with the jumper I was wearing. As usual, one of the cats keeps an eye on me as I dig away, removing barrow loads of turf, until the shape of the bed is revealed. The paint we had used to mark out the beds was now very faded, and the bulbs had to be planted as soon as possible, so there was no time to waste.

Once the bed was done and the unwanted turf stacked in collars to rot down to create an abundance of compost for next year, I go inside to vacuum, mop the floors in the kitchen then change the oil in the deep fat fryer. What a busy bee I was.

I defrost some crumpets for lunch, cook them under the grill until they are very brown indeed, then pile on lots of butter to melt into the holes, just as they should be. Jools calls to say she is leaving at midday, meaning she will be home sometime after four, all being well, and has news of Mum.

As I had been busy, I take the afternoon off to listen to football, pausing in my relaxation to prepare the steak for dinner. I decide I have worked hard enough to get a bottle of beer and some microwave popcorn to munch on whilst the first game plays out.

At three, Norwich kick off, but struggle against Derby and the referee (again), slumping to a 2-1 defeat. Bugger. I miss the end of the games as Jools returns, and we have much to discuss.

Mus does not think she can ever return home, is feeling down as as the blood poisoning is still not under control. This means big changes ahead, if it pans out, and it will be up to Jools and myself to clear her house out, sort out what to keep and what to bin. This will take about a week at least, as despite Mum and her cleaner sorting her clothes out, and me in the kitchen being ruthless, there is three bedrooms with wardrobes all full of stuff, and then what might be in the attic and in the garage.

I prepare dinner, as Jools has not eaten much in the previous 24 hours, so is pretty hungry. Steak, fried jacket potatoes, garlic mushrooms and fresh corn all together is rather wonderful even if the cook says so himself.

This was also the last day of British Summer Time, meaning from Sunday mornings would be lighter, but darkness would now be falling before five in the evening.

Winter is coming.

Almost here in fact.