Thursday 21st November 2019

It looks like winter. It feels like winter.

Once cloud rolls over, mornings take until nearly lunchtime to reach full daylight, then fade soon after two towards dusk before five.

Welcome to November.

I hear Jools in the kitchen, knowing that soon there will be a big cup of coffee waiting. My shoulder is no better, some kind of muscle strain I have decided, but once up the pain fades.

There is no sign of the moon, now nearly new, instead the sky is dark and featureless, and once dawn comes, shows it to be totally covered in featureless cloud. The birds are out and about early, so I go out to top up the feeders, scatter seeds on the ground, and go back in to watch.

Jools leaves for work, so I have another coffee, some toast for breakfast and look online for the news. No good news, Brexit still happening, Tories streets ahead in the polls, and Trump still president.

There is always work to distract.

At the moment, work is light, I answer mails that have come in, and begin to plan audits for early next year. I am an auditor; I audit, therefore I am.

Outside, a sea mist rolls in, hiding the village and the dip behind the house. It looks really cold, so I turn the heating up another notch and make a fresh brew.

The day goes on, so at three I decide I should do some gardening. Yes, you heard that right. Just some tidying. So, I put on an old coat, my old boots and pull up the Mexican sunflowers that had died and gone to seed, then tidy up the Virginia Creeper that grows beside the shed and over into the raspberries. Finally taking out the dead annual climbers from the bottom bed, but the cup and saucer plats in the top one are going strong and still flowering.

I pack all the dead and dying vegetation in a bag, put the hostas in the shed to protect them from the frosts. Finally put the tools away and close the shed. All done for another year.

It was half three and seemed to be getting dark, though the mist had cleared.

Dinner is simple enough, caprese and garlic bread. All done for when Jools comes home, which she does at quarter to six, and another day is nearly over.

We listen to music, talk a bit about finances and what to do next year, we have plans, exciting plans of things to do, maybe. And one day I will say what they are, we shall see. Trying not to count chickens and all that.

And that is that. Day is done.