Monday 27th August 2018

Bank Holiday Monday

It was this, when I was a child, that signified the summer was really coming to an end, or the long summer holiday was, as the six or seven weeks of bliss would end some point in the first or second week of September, and straight into more hard stuff that I saw no point in. Or if I did, would rather we back outside playing in the still warm sunshine.

Since then I have grown to appreciate and even love science and maths, heck, I write for pleasure now and who saw that coming? But as the days began to grow really short, we would be in classrooms whilst our maths master musters his rhomboids. And when we were allowed to go outside, it was to be "taught" the ways of rugby union, I think it was union, but we had to have a special reversible top, huge boots with studs, then catch the ball and run each other. I did well until the class bully threatened me with a bunch of fives if I scored another try. Thus a promising rugger career was cut short by the threat of casual violence.

As our long walk was postponed on Sunday, Jools asked did I want to do it? And much to my surprise I said yes.

So, we have a coffee and a sandwich, then put on our walking boots and set out for the distant corner of the parish, right almost into Kingsdown.

Across the field without nary breaking our stride, past the pig's copse, no sign of the pigs, then down Norway Drove to the top of The Dip, pausing to say hello to the small flock of sheep that will soon share the fate of the pigs in the copse. Oddly, they are interested in me, and come bounding over the the fence and follow us as we walk down the dip past the end of their field. We could hear their mournful bleating as we walked to the mudpool at the bottom.

We find a way through, then up the steep track the otherside, me huffing and puffing again but this as a result of the allergy attack I was still getting over.

At the top we turn towards the top of Otty Bottom Road before turning over the path across the top of the downs.

Just as the path begins to drop down a little, Jool took the path across the fields, and I went via the monument, then from there would take the cliff path and we should meet up at the sloe bushes next to the golf course.

Once at the monument, I look for the tiny spikes of the ALTs, a few more out, so I snap them before setting off down the cliff path towards Kingsdown. At least it is mostly downhill, and with the sun weakly breaking through the clouds, it was just about warm, and the walk was enjoyable.

I reach the sloe bushes, and there is no sign of Jools, so I begin to gather the small hard plumbs, putting them in a bag I had brought along. Over the hedge I could hear the sound of golfers getting their round in early, one chap in a bugger and his poor labrador jogging beside him. The buggy stops for the guy to climb out, select a club and wave it in the direction of the ball and drive off for another 20m before the process starts all over.

In a while, Jools joins me, and walking back up the path we fill a bag together, but Jools says there was more in bushes beside the path, so we go there, and in no time had filled two more bags, and altogether, the backpack was just about full. So with rain in the air, and clouds sweeping over the sky, we head for home and for brunch.

The pigs were in the copse, and looking very healthy, and looking like they might be off to market.

Anyway, we don't stop to look for butterflies, just back over the fields to the end of our street and home.

There is gardening to do too, plant the two shrubs I had bought, and as luck would have it, there were now two spaces in the new beds, and very much at home they looked too.

As we had each done 10,000 steps, we were hungry, so I prepared lunch, insalata and lots of crusty bread. Which hit the spot.

And afterwards came the task of pricking each and every one of the sloes before placing them in a sterilised demijohn. I do this whilst watching a recording of the football, which was a really good way of getting the task done. We filled two demijohns with sloes, and the two litres of gin only filled one, so I went to Tesco to hunt and gather another couple of bottles.

And by three we were done, we agitate the demijohns and the gin is already turning red as the berry juice leaks out.

I cook roast beef and the trimmings, or some of the trimmings, for dinner. Roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings, steamed veg and mashed and peppered swede.

We have the last bottle of the pink fizz with it, and very good it was too, but we were stuffed, and having less than we usually eat on such occasions.

By the time we clear us, wash up and put everything away, it is half eight and already dark outside. On the radio, I listen to Man Utd v Spurs, and is very much as exciting as I hoped, and ended up laughing like a drain as Spurs rattled in their third as the Theatre of Revised Expectations emptied.

Still, gotta laff.