Sunday 26th August 2018

When we look back at the summer of the 2018, we will remember a two month period through June and July and indeed into August when there was nothing other than clear blue skies and temperatures through the roof. At some points, there seemed no end to it, as day after day dawned clear and blue, and as soon as the sun rose, so did the mercury.

Last week the last of the harvest was gathered and so there is little other than fields of stubble as far as the eye can see.

And now the temperature is not so high, the sun rises close to six in the morning, and by half eight in the evening, its dark. And then yesterday, with the BBC telling us there would be storms, it started off bright enough, but got cloudier and cooler, until the rain arrived after lunch, and with it turning the afternoon to dusk, we sat and shivered in the house until Jools announced that she would put the heating on.

I was cold enough not to argue.

We had planned to be up with the larks and out on a long stomp to a distant line of sloe bushes, but it looked to cold to go out, so we stayed inside and I watched the football before we had breakfast, and then a shorter walk was planned to get some blackberries.

My friends in America said they had harvested their blackberries weeks ago, maybe sometime in July. Not so here, but the long hot summer coupled with the recent rain have produced huge berries, bursting with sweet joice. At least if you get them from west facing bushes.

Jools has a mental map of all the best foraging places, and the best blackberries were on the other side of the dip, almost opposite our house, so to get there required us to take the path over the fields, then double back along the diagonal path through two hedgerows and up the other side of the dip, skirting past the farmhouse.

We do inspect one of the large tractor tyres, and find that the line of them are in place to protect a sewer that runs to Kingsdown, so that they are not damaged by ploughing.

Up at the top of the field, we pick a couple of pounds of berries in short shrift, and are walking back down the direct path that runs down the edge of the field, through the farm and up to our street. Back home in a few minutes.

Do you think you can make crumble with blackberries and raspberries? Jools asked. I see no reason why not. So, Jools gets busy with flour and butter whilst the berries lightly stew, we would have that late in the afternoon before we go to Whitfield.

Meanwhile, outside, the wind and rain arrives, sending huge curtains of rains across the view over the dip, so thick it was like fog. We turn the heating up.

Crumble was fantastic, I can reveal. I had mine with the last of the out of date cream, and was fine. Perfect with a fresh strong cuppa.

And then to Whitfield for more cards malarkey, and on the way, people driving like idiots in heavy rain, no lights, no indicators. I use the car horn, liberally.

We arrive safe, and we have a fine night, as the rain hammers down on the plastic roof which lets light into Jen's dining room. And for the most year has leaked like a sieve too, but that has been fixed. Jools and I win a game of Meld each, then Jools scoops the jackpot for two runs in Queenie, leaving us up heavily again for the evening.

And that was it, back home before ten, have a cuppa, check the interwebs and off to bed.