"THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS" AND OTHER PLACES!

I expect that you are as tired of reading my ramblings about the weather as I am of writing them, truth to tell there has been little else to write about for the past week! Gale has followed gale and storm after storm, punctuated only by bouts of torrential rain and the power cuts to which we are now becoming accustomed.

Severe weather warnings have become an every day occurrence as has watching the level of the brook which runs through the village; and which has in the past caused serious flooding:

By day the sight of flying debris has become the norm and by night the howling of the wind in the roof and the sound of it's howling down the chimneys has kept everyone awake for well over a week.

Each morning my son tours the grounds to check the trees and fences and has been obliged to remove fallen branches from the drive several times these past days. Friday nights storm left the fence at the front of the property half way across the road, it was to have been strengthened during the previous week but the weather was too wet and windy for the gardener to undertake the work in safety. Murphy rides again!

Out two cats, having been mewed up….excuse the pun…… for days became, first skittish then morose, leaving the hearth only for long enough to eat or to use the litter trays…..I know exactly how they feel!

We decided to decorate the house for the Christmas Holiday in an attempt to cheer things up a little, it is difficult to feel festive with dustbins, fence panels and shed roofs hurtling past ones windows!

I must say that the inside of the house looks lovely with every room dressed for the holiday, but outside it is a different story.

During a lull in the storms (of about five minutes duration) we managed to decorate the porch with a string of coloured fairy lights of the solar powered variety. Unfortunately the light levels have been so low that the longest they have stayed on has been twenty minutes, some days it barely gets light at all.

In spite of the gathering gloom I intend to begin my Christmas baking tomorrow(power cuts permitting of course} there is nothing like the smell of spiced biscuits to led a festive air to the kitchen and the boys, grown up though they be are looking forward to a plate of warm cookies with their morning coffee.

Tonight the wind has died down a little and the house is not shaking quite so violently, unfortunately the weather forecast predicts more gales and heavy rain tomorrow, becoming storm force by the evening…….this is where I came in!

LOCAL AUTHORITIES SUCK!

I recently told you of a village controversy concerning the demolition of a row of perfectly good small houses available for rent to make way for a few very large ones to be sold for a fat profit., well the storm created by this action still rages.

This morning my letterbox was damaged when the Local Councillor and chief architect of the atrocity stuffed through it a large glossy pamphlet, which remunerated her recent “triumphs” and catalogued all the hard work she claims to have carried out on our behalf during the past month.

This epistle, known locally as” The Monthly Liar” is filled with photographs of our lady councillor as she flits about the borough like Batman doing good deeds(sic).

It is filled with glaring inaccuracies, overstatements and self aggrandising tales of the ladies deeds of daring do! She uses every local problem as a photo opportunity, rocks up, has her picture taken, promises to take action and then……...does nothing.

Irritated beyond measure I sent an e mail to her office asking them what it cost to publish this news letter and where the money to pay for it's publication came from.

I recently crossed swords with the lady in question and found her hectoring and evasive. Unable to answer most of my questions she blustered and prevaricated, but said nothing to the point.

The few comments she did make turned out, on investigation to be, shall we say, inaccurate?

Her tactic is to bully people into agreeing with her, she was most put out to find that it did not work with me and was obliged to retire worsted from the field.

I was particularly angry today as I discovered this morning that a young family of our acquaintance are being forced to leave the village as their tenancy of some years standing has been terminated and they have been unable to find affordable accommodation locally. This sad event is taking place at a time of year which makes their circumstances even more poignant.

Their little boy will have to go to a strange school and the family will lose a much needed support network of friends and relations and the mother will lose her part time job, it is tragic.

The contrast between our smug councillor and this sad little family was, I fear to much for my temper and I “Let rip” I do not regret a single word..

By the time Christmas comes they will have moved from their pretty little cottage in the village, to a dreary flat in a nearby town and I am not just angry, I am incandescent.

When the Housing association sold the land to a local builder they made a good deal of money, The Local Authority claim that this decision was not their responsibility, but the decision to build large expensive houses was. The entire affair has been suspect from start to finish!

As always it is the little people who suffer when politics goes rogue and even when everything is above board the amount of red tape makes dealing with the Local Authority almost impossible, as any attempt to communicate with them via their web site will prove.

It is time that Local Authorities in general and council officials in particular were made to understand that they are the servants of the rate payers, not their masters!

THE WHEELIE BIN MYSTERY

It is our misfortune to live in an area where the refuse is collected fortnightly and quite simply it does not work. Our Local Authority, a collection of incompetent cheeseparing chisellers issued this decree during a bout of swingeing cuts, a couple of years ago during a cost cutting exercise.

It is odd that they still seem to have plenty of resources available when it is a question of crackpot prestige projects but that is by the way.

When the fortnightly refuse collection came into force each household was issued with a medium sized wheelie bin and a small plastic box for recyclable rubbish.. We were ordered to recycle glass, tins, and cardboard, however plastic would not be collected! The lids of the bins must be able to close when the bin is full on pain of having your “over full” bin left unemptied.

This makes life difficult as of course cardboard waste takes up a good deal of space so that the box provided is often full in a couple of days, leaving one no alternative but to dispose of any further cardboard waste in the wheelie bin.

There are, of course recycle points in various places but there are none in the village so unless one has a car it is impossible to use these facilities, unless one is prepared to trek four miles while man hauling a mass of trash!

Our Generous Local Authority will only deign to collect any extra recyclable trash on payment of forty pounds, although it is possible to undercut them by handing over twenty pounds to the refuse collectors directly!

Naturally this edict has been the cause of much disquiet among the people of out lying villages such as ours and it is the elderly and disabled who suffer most from this ludicrous state of affairs.

Of course some have benefited from the regime, farmers for instance have noticed a decrease in their rat population, as the little blighter’s have given up the meagre rural diet found on the farms for the richer pickings to be had from village bins.

On bin day the village resembles Hamlin Town as the rat population swarm onto the roads in search of pickings left behind as the refuse collectors drop a considerable amount the contents of the bins in the road during the business of emptying them!

On occasion as much as a quarter of the bins contents has to be scrapped of the road and returned to ones bin, thus leaving even less space for any new refuse.

The scene is set, now for the mystery.

It seems that someone has taken a dislike to the, admittedly ugly bins and on the nights when they are left out for collection this unknown individual is touring the village undercover of darkness in order to wrench of their lids and fill them full of holes! This has been the cause of considerable annoyance to an already beleaguered and disgruntled village population.

Street lighting is sparse in this vicinity and one is obliged to use a flash light if one has occasion to roam the village after dark..

Some villagers have taken it upon themselves to creep about at night in an attempt to uncover the identity of the bin buster and to catch him red handed and this has lead to some amusing situations.

One poor soul, out walking his dog in the early hours of the morning was set upon by a pair of irate villagers when caught near a bin. It transpired that he was merely disposing of a bag of doggy poo rather than taking it home with him, in itself a pernicious practice, and one that is all too common here.

On another occasion a lady was caught stuffing her rubbish into a neighbours bin as hers was already full. Further investigation revealed that this too has become a common practice in the village and on Thursday nights when the bins are put out, the lanes are full of villagers creeping about in search of half empty bins in which to dispose of their own surplus rubbish!

Woe betide anyone who leaves a skip unattended for more than a few moments for he is sure to return to find it piled hight with bottles, tins and cardboard waste, not to mention plastic bottles, a local scourge.

In spite of the efforts of our amateur detectives the identity of the wheelie bin vandal remains a mystery.

The Local Authority are, of course, not at all pleased by the number of requests for new bins and have threatened to charge those who have requested more than one new bin in the past year; a statement which has caused howls of protest from all concerned:

It seems they believe that the villagers are trashing their own bins as a form of protest against the fortnightly collections, well I suppose it might be true but I think it unlikely as our own bin has been vandalised recently and we had nothing whatever to do with it's destruction. No honestly!

Meanwhile, tonight is bin night and I expect that once again the “Phantom Bin Basher! Will be abroad and about his nefarious pursuits.

I heard it privily that one gentleman has decided to hide inside his bin in order to catch the Phantom.

All I can say is that on a foul night like this, good luck to the fellow and rather him than me!

"LOUNGIN AROUND AN SUFFERIN"

The hectic pace of the past few weeks has finally caught up with me, poor Pa has been in a state of collapse for several days and even my son is lacking his usual energy. Today it was my turn to bite the dust.

Six thirty this morning saw me downstairs mending the fires as usual. My task it is to open the flues, heap on some logs and coal, open the curtains and, in the winter put on the lights so that a cheery aspect awaits the later risers, it is a time of day I love.

Another part of this morning ritual is to give our dear little Moth Cat her first cuddle of the day, a. pleasant interlude but one which this morning had unusual consequences.

I made the mistake of sitting (for a moment) in one of the big cosy armchairs while stroking the cat, many sleepless nights, the soft chair, the warmth of the fire and the soporific effect of stroking the cats fur took effect, I fell asleep.

Loud ringing of the doorbell jolted me back to consciousness, the postman, with packages needing to be signed for and tired of waiting was leaning heavily on the bell push, the noise was deafening.

Cursing roundly I stumbled to the door and took delivery of yet another pile of reference books for my son from a postman grinning like the “Cheshire Cat”;it was not until I looked in a mirror half an hour later that I realised the cause of his amusement: Boy did I look rough!

Now an hour late waking my son with a morning cup of coffee I mounted the stairs with what passes for haste these days and switched on the coffee machine in my room. After presenting the coffee to my sleepy son with apologies for my tardiness I returned to my room, made a coffee for myself, sat down and promptly fell asleep again!

Breakfast was much later than usual.

After our morning meal Pa who had slept until eleven loaded the dishwasher while I raked the ash from the stoves ready for my son to carry them off to the ash heap. Hot from tending the twin infernos I sat for a moment in the conservatory to cool of and…..you guessed it…. I fell asleep again. This time it was the arrival of a courier which disturbed my impromptu nap, I jumped up, headed for the door and fell over the cat. It was some time before I managed to regain an upright position.

Realising by now that further resistance was useless, I made haste to finish up my outstanding chores and then subsided into the same easy chair which had tempted me earlier in the day and within minutes I was fast asleep again; this time for several hours:

My boys had taken pity on me and left me to doze before the fire for the remainder of the afternoon. Snug and oh so comfortable I caught up on some much needed sleep and for once the pain of arthritis did not wake me after a short time.

I drifted back to consciousness as daylight was almost gone, the room look lovely in the lamp light and for two pins I would have gone back to sleep but there was dinner to prepare so off I went to the kitchen followed by the cat who had kept my company all the long afternoon.

We tucked in to beef stew, made yesterday and reheated, and suet dumplings, freshly made, it was the perfect meal for a wild wet evening and we all enjoyed enjoyed it very much.

Now we are all ready for bed, after chatting awhile over hot cocoa three sleepy people are hoping for a good nights rest.

Although I have felt ghastly for most of the day, it was lovely to have an excuse for sitting quietly by the fire with the cat for company and doing…..nothing. Even so I hope to be back on form tomorrow in time for baking day., which I love.

A NIGHT WITH THE TROLLS.

After another night of high wind and torrential rain, we were not in the least surprised when tonight's BBC weather forecast for the next few days promised more of the same. Nor were we cheered by the severe weather warning for our part of the world, although it must be said that we are becoming used these alarming messages.

Throughout the day the trees at the bottom of the garden thrashed about to such an extent that I began to wonder how the big fire tree could survive such a buffeting, as it appeared to tossing several directions at once. Our silver birch spent most of the day at a forty five degree angle, and the old apple trees creaked like old sailing ships tossed at sea!

As promised our cleaning lady appeared, bright eyed and bushy tailed at nine O clock sharp. Since Pa and I had barely a couple of hours sleep last night and my son little better it was a very rusty set who sat down for a breakfast of toasted cheese and a pot of good strong tea at around ten thirty!

During the night I had been in considerable pain and had resorted to the internet for amusement, armed with a bottle of “Jack Daniels” and a packet of digestive biscuits I amused myself with my favourite game, Troll Busting!

It always irritates me when a perfectly good site is ruined by the arrival of a foul mouthed, ill-informed. bigoted, ignorant troll. The plague is wide spread and I know that many people are put off by their behaviour, I however consider them to be fair game and treat them to the Trolls Bane treatment!

Friends have been hounded by these scummy little tykes and so a few of us have banded together to give them a taste of their own poison. No bad language is used, we attack with facts, a healthy dose of sarcasm and a degree of withering scorn, the combination of which usually has the little blighter’s on the run in a few days.

My particular dislike is for the downright nasty types who attack sites such as disabled forums, one unpleasant little tick we recently dealt with insisted that Hitler was right to condemn anyone with a disability to the gas chambers, imagine the effect that such a statement could have on a vulnerable disabled child. I know of one deaf child who one reading this pernicious trash became withdrawn and desperately unhappy. During the weeks it took her parents to discover the cause of her misery she changed from a bright happy girl to a sad recluse, refusing to play with her hearing friends as she felt herself worthless.

This was the beginning of my troll bashing activities, I do not seek them out, but if I find them I do battle, at the very least while they are attacking me they are leaving some other poor soul, less able to defend themselves alone for a while.

The odd thing is that what seems to upset them most is the correct use of vocabulary and grammar, faced with this they become hopping mad in no time….weird!

As I write the wind in screeching about the gables of the house like a demented banshee and from time to time there is the sound one of the pigeons that roost between the barge boards and the roof being blown down the slates and into the gutter some eight or nine feet below. Poor things, they are having a tough time this winter, as are we all!

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No internet for me tonight, I have laid in a selection of films to while away the sleepless hours.

I shall watch the titanic sink,”A Night to remember”, watch her brought back to the surface,“Raise the Titanic” and the if there is time I shall watch the National Geographic documentary of how Bob Ballard found the sunken ship, some years ago.

Proof positive that should the roof of our house succumb to the gale that worse things happen at sea!

HAPPENINGS, HICCUPS AND INTERUPTIONS!

It seems an age since I last sat down to write. During the past few weeks it really has been a case of “If it can go wrong it will” and we have been left reeling from the succession of irritating problems, peculiar happenings and unwelcome events which have pursued us of late.
Ranging from violent tempests(many) and unwelcome visitors who popped in for coffee and stayed all day,(numerous), to power failures (several)!
Even the relatively quiet days have been dogged by accidents, including sprained ankles, cuts, falls and my most recent, a badly scalded foot, acquired when the nozzle on my steamer broke free and shot a jet of scalding steam over my tender tootsies!

There were of course some welcome guests but unfortunately their visits coincided with the absence of our much loved cleaning lady, who, due to a set of peculiar mishaps was was unable to spend her usual one day a week sprucing up our home.

In her absence we had, of course done our best to keep the old place tidy but with both my wrists strapped up, my son embroiled in his latest novel and poor Pa suffering from a heavy cold and a flare up of arthritis in his shoulders we made a poor fist of it.

By the time the dear lady arrived this morning she encountered a daunting pile of ironing, and much dust, caused by the stoves. A shameful display of cobwebs decorated the old beams and she tut-tutted rather more than usual as she attacked them with a feather duster.

If there is one thing she detests it is cobwebs, she takes each one as a personal insult, and has been known, having loaded her armoury of dusters, vacuum cleaners and mops into her car on completing her days labours, and noticing as she was leaving one she has missed, to unload her kit and return to tackle the cause of the offence!

She attacked spots of candle wax on tables and rugs, blitzed the bathrooms, bedrooms and stairs, took the ironing home with her and announced that she would return in the morning to deal with the rooms downstairs, it felt as if a fresh wind had blown through the house. Bless her for the kind soul she is, if we appreciated her efforts before we certainly do now and I should hate to be without her.

I think that there has not been a day in the last six weeks when it has not rained, small soaking drizzle alternating with torrential downpours blown by the wind at a forty-five degree angle has kept me indoors and all work in the garden has been suspended as our gardeners have been too busy dealing with fallen trees to deal with our pruning and the rain has meant that mowing has been out of the question.

Feeling a little stir crazy my son and I decided that nothing would stop us from visiting the Annual Christmas Craft Fair at the village hall. This is a marvellous event as all the stalls are filled with items made by local artists and crafts men and women, and a mighty talented group they are.

Of course by the time we were ready to set out it was lashing down, perishing cold and with a wind strong enough to trash a brolly in ten seconds flat!

We fought our way up the hill like a couple of intrepid explorers, meeting on the way other benighted idiots on the same errand as ourselves, each cursing his or her stupidity at having been tempted away from a warm fireside by the promise of a Christmas bargain,though I must say that it was well worth the effort.

Each day having been fraught with problems we have now reached the point where we go to bed speculating upon what horrors the next day will produce and tonight is no exception.

The gale which has been blowing all day has developed into a storm and gusts of seventy miles an hour are once again battering the house.

About an our ago I distinctly heard the sound of a slate sliding down the roof above my bedroom. Candles have again been deployed about the house ready to be lit in the event of any further power outs. We are, in short, prepared for the worst!

A RAINY NIGHT

All day the sky has threatened rain to come, but although the sky was dark and portentous the weather remained dry and the air still. The change came at dusk, with a steady drizzle which soaked the garden in a matter of minutes and sent our cats running for home, and a dry place before the fire.

As I write rain is falling heavily, streaming down the sloping roof outside my bedroom window, pouring into the gutters and gurgling down the drain pipe.

As this torrent hit the roof of the conservatory it makes a noise like and express train and is loud enough to cause cats to wake from their slumbers and stare stare balefully out in to the dark garden.

Now that most of the leaves have fallen I have a good view of the old church tower, lit by spot lights it seems to float above the tree tops, indistinct in it's shroud of rain.

I n the gap between the dormers sheltered from the worst of the storm I can hear a faint scratching sound, made by small birds who always roost there in bad weather. Last winter a rat managed to invade the loft and the sound of it's pattering feet almost drove the cat Twiggy to distraction.

So long as I can remain indoors I love nights like this, when I can cuddle up beside the fire or snuggle into my cosy bed and drift off to sleep listening to the sounds made by the rain.

I revel at such times in the quiet comfort of home, in sharp contrast to the wildness of a rainy night, the warm lamplight within while outside all is dark and forbidding. A cup of hot chocolate is even nicer under these circumstances, the pleasure it gives heightened by what is happening outside.

On nights such as this I do not mind being unable to sleep as there is pleasure to be gained from the sense of comfort and well being as I listen in my candlelit room to the soporific sounds of a rainy night in the countryside.

When we lived in London and my son worked all night in the city I hated bad weather as I though of him battling his way to work through the dreary streets, or working at his desk tired and with the prospect of a long journey home in the morning rush hour.

Now I can enjoy rainy nights knowing that he, like myself is safe and warm

These are small pleasures, but I am thankful for them.

TROUBLE WITH THE SHED!

A few weeks ago after a very rainy night, I opened up the shed for Twiggy, who uses the place as a refuge when the cleaner is vacuum cleaner the house, and to my dismay discovered that the interior of the shed was soaking wet.

Close inspection revealed that the cause of the trouble was the roofing felt, which had slipped down the roof exposing the bare woodwork. The resulting deluge had left Twiggy's cushioned hideaway in a soggy mess, so that she was obliged to spend the afternoon in the green house (definitely second best!)

We dried out the cushions and the next day did what we could to make the roof sound again, effecting a temporary repair which would hopefully last long enough to give us time to make more permanent arrangements.

Today we got the all clear from our agent to get some estimates for the work. Since the roof timbers are unsound and the rear wall of the shed is rotten it seems likely that a new shed will be needed. The existing shed is a large one and as well as our cat it is currently housing a large garden swing, several padded garden chairs and a small table; not to mention a splendid array of wellies, hiking boot, hard hats, goggles and masks:

Past experience has taught us that getting the owners of the house to part with money for repairs can take quite a time, but we hope that on this occasion he will bite the bullet and get the job done sooner rather than later.. I shall not be holding my breath!

All through the day the same thick fog which shrouded the valley yesterday has hung in the tree tops and drifted around the church tower. Now that darkness has fallen the effect of the street lighting on this thick haze is eerie. Looking out over the garden the light seems to be spread out across the lawn and the white mist, now drifting just above ground level looks very spooky indeed.

We have drawn the curtains and built up the fires, soon we shall be safe in our beds, and I am glad that none of us are travelling in such conditions.

Many years ago we often had to drive for mile in thick fog on one memorable occasion was so bad that I was obliged to perch on the bonnet of the car in order to keep us on the straight and narrow. I even had to clamber up sign posts in order to find find the right direction. Now that was scary.

THE HALLOWEEN PARTY THAT ALMOST WASN'T!

Last nights Halloween party was a huge success, and from dusk until quite late a steady stream of children and adults trooped though our door in search of the various treats on offer. Mountains of cookies, cakes and other party food vanished quickly and we began to wonder if we had enough to last the night.

In fact there should have been several more items, however a crisis occurred on Friday which not only prevented me to doing any baking at all, but also caused us to miss breakfast, and lunch and made dinner very late indeed.

We were up early on Friday morning which promised to be a very busy day, the grocery delivery had arrived and been packed away and we were about to cook breakfast when a knock at the door heralded the beginning of a strange and frustrating day.

We opened the door to find a neighbour who was obviously very upset and so, of course we asked her in, sat her down, made coffee and tried to help.

Her story was a long one and although I cannot give any details, suffice it to say that she had every cause to be unhappy and so, although bust we were not inclined to turn her away.

Over three hours later with her tale told, my son agreed to go home with her and attempt to sort out her immediate difficulties, this was a generous offer as his next book must be finished by Wednesday and he had reached the stage where every moment counted.

We had begged her to stay for breakfast but she was too upset to eat anything, so it was that at around one thirty my son, armed with laptop, note pad and pencil and went to view the mountain of paperwork which seemed to be, in part the cause of the trouble.

During her time with us the meat delivery had arrived and needed to be stowed away in the freezer, having first been split in to manageable portions, for use in the weeks to come.

This done and the kitchen tidied the was little time for baking and I was obliged to shelve the job until the next day.

At five my son returned, he had invited the damsel in distress to dinner, after which the two of them would retire to the study to complete their deliberations.

She arrived am our later and being by this time absolutely ravenous we all tucked in to our first meal of the day at six O clock!

Pa and I cleared the kitchen while my son, continued his night errantry and I must say that by now the lady appeared much calmer and more cheerful than before.

She left at ten, and although her problems were not entirely solved she could at lest see her way through them fog to a, hopefully favourable conclusion.

Well of course all of this meant that on the morning of Halloween I still had all the baking to do, the mini quiches, sausage rolls, witches fingers and cupcakes, not to mention all the decorations. indoors and out to be done. I was literally cooking against the clock.

Unfortunately the cupcakes and witches fingers had to be left, along with a bath of ghost shaped cookies. These were replaced by a large tin of sweets, a huge bowl of crisps and large bowl of chocolate eyeballs.

It was well that we had made these extra provisions as the number of visitors far exceeded last years numbers, at one point a party of thirty children arrived together, with adult supervisors. Apparently their had been a party at a neighbours house and from their the children had been taken around the village for “Trick or Treat”

We had laid out a large party table in the conservatory which was decorated with cobwebs spiders ans coloured lanterns. Serving such a large party took a little time and the adults chatted, with some of our other adult visitors over a glass of wine. It was great fun.

For the rest of the evening children in smaller groups arrived at regular intervals, quite number for the next village more than a mile away...all were welcome

Many of the adults were in costume and even I wore a grey kaftan embellished with a black cat!

By ten thirty the last of our visitor had left and so, armed with a very large Scotch, I made my weary way upstairs to bed.

It had been a wonderful party, what could be better that to spend an evening with a house full of friends and happy children/

A SQUALLY DAY

When I awoke this morning to the sound of heavy rain beating upon my bedroom window., my inclination was to snuggle down under my quilt and go back to sleep. Duty called however and so I donned my dressing gown and made my way downstairs to mend the fires, open the curtains and feed the cat. These tasks herald the start of my winter days, along with making the first coffee of the day for the sleeping men folk of the family.

The wind howled in the chimneys and the drummed loudly on the roof f the conservatory, a more miserable and unpromising morning would be hard to imagine. Still the house was warm and cosy, and although outside was darkened by the heavy cloud inside all was bright and cheerful.

The cat Moth revelled in my undivided attention and it was quite a time before I returned to my room to make the coffee. Some time ago we purchased a wonderful machine which boils anything from half a cup to a teapot full of water. Unlike a kettle it does not have to be picked up but dispenses the water directly into the cups, rather like a coffee machine does, and this spares me much pain as in the morning my hands are often more than usually painful.

Enjoying our breakfast while the rain still fell in torrents discussing our plans for the day.

My son would spend his day writing, his new book must be ready in two weeks so he has his nose to the grindstone. Pa had the laundry to do and I had lots of Halloween related business to attend to, and so, with the dishes done we went our separate ways.

As I tidied the guest room and made preparations for a visit from a friend of my son's the cat Twiggy sat in the window, patting the glass from time to time as the wind plastered the panes with small leaves from the silver birch at the bottom of the garden. As soon as I had made the bed and covered it with a warm throw, she left the window and curled up on the guest bed, a favourite roost

when bad weather keeps her indoors.

All at once the rain ceased and the sun shone, the wind dropped and I decide that now was the time for my visit to the shop. As I turned in tot the lane it seemed that the whole village had the same idea and by the time I reached the shop in was packed and a long queue had formed at the till.

Children, on half term holiday took advantage of the lull in the weather to hop out to buy sweets and comics with money given them by their harassed mothers in the hope that in their absence there might be time for a cup of tea and a few moments of much needed relaxation! A forlorn hope as the children seemed intent upon hurrying home before the weather closed in again

By four thirty it was beginning to be dark and although the rain had stopped the ragged clouds which scudded across the evening sky promise plenty more rain overnight.

I love to be out of doors, in fact I need plenty of fresh air if I am to thrive, however there is something almost comforting about days like today. Ones sense of well-being and happiness is accentuated by the awfulness of the weather in contrast with the cosiness within.

We have hunkered down for the night, in my room a scented candle burns in a coloured glass lamp and is casting a rosy glow about the room. My bed awaits and I shall e glad to slip between the sheets and drift of to sleep, while the wind which woke me this morning still howls around the old house

PUPKIN CARVING,PUMPKIN SOUP AND THE BIGGEST DAMNED SPIDER I EVER SAW!

This morning my cleaner arrived early to give the downstairs rooms and the kitchen a good scrubbing. Dust from the fires is causing havoc, leaving a fine patina of grey ash over everything, and in spite of the fact that I did some dusting myself a couple of days ago; the library and the drawing room resembled Pompeii after Vesuvius had erupted!

After breakfast I ensconced myself in the conservatory, and armed with two bowls and a very sharp knife, set about carving our Halloween pumpkin for Saturday's party. Even with both wrists strapped up I found it rather a painful business and as I hacked out large chunks of pumpkin

flesh, I thought wistfully of the plastic ones I had seen on ebay, lit by battery and most of all involving no effort.

I think that the time is fast approaching when I may have to resort to buying these monstrosities, but not quite yet.

The pumpkin was a large one and had won second prize at the Pumpkin feste last week and I soon filled a large bowl with lovely orange flesh which I later made in to enough soup to last half the winter. The seeds, bits of tough skin and pithy bits went into a separate bowl ready to be composted.

The result of my efforts was not as good as last years, but it was adequate and would look well when lit with candles and placed on the bench by the front door.

PUMKIN SOUP

1lb pumpkin flesh cut in to chunks

2 carrots

1 large onion quartered

1 large parsnip

2 cloves of garlic peeled

1 litre chicken stock

1ltr semi skimmed milk.

Salt and pepper to taste.

3 tablespoons of olive oil

Place the vegetables in a large roasting tin and pour over the oil/

Roast in the oven a 200oC for about 30 minutes.

When the vegetables have cooled a little purree them in a blender and put them in to a large saucepan together with the milk and the stock.

Heat until almost boiling then serve at once.

I often make pumpkin crisps as a garnish for this dish.

Simply slice thin slivers of pumpkin using a potato peeler and deep fry them in hot fat until they are crisp and light brown.

Sprinkle them over the soup when you serve it and leave the rest in a bowl on the table.

I promise you there will be no crisps left at the end the meal!

I was glad to go to my room after dinner for a rest and was sitting in my comfy chair with the cat in my lap, when from under the bed the biggest spider I had ever had the misfortune to encounter strolled out into the centre of the room.

I felt uncomfortable as I realised that it was heading in my direction and that I had no chance at all of disengaging myself from the cat and getting out of my chair in time to avoid having the awful beast run over my bare feet!!!!!

Coming to my rescue Twiggy jumped off my lap, pounced on the monster and ate it up at once!

Within a moment she was back on my knee curled up as if nothing had happened, only a couple of spiders legs on the rug were left to show what had happened.

Oh how I do love that cat.

A CREATIVE DAY....WITH INTERUPTIONS

I had set today aside for the making of decorations for our Halloween party and by hook or by crook I intended that by evening the business end of the work would be completed, and so it was, but not without a catalogue of distractions.

Hoping to get breakfast over early in order to have the large kitchen table to myself I whizzed(well what passes for whizzing in my condition) through my morning chores and we had just sat down to breakfast when the Avon lady arrived and of course I couldn't find my purse.

Eventually my son paid the bill and I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I returned to the table to eat my boiled egg.

Unfortunately the business of finding my purse and the Avon lady's inclination to chat meant that my nice runny egg yolk (four minutes) was by now hard boiled! Nothing daunted I sliced up some lettuce and made an egg sandwich, not my ideal breakfast to be sure but under the circumstances the best I could do.

Breakfast over and the washing up begun our window cleaner arrived, now he really is a gossip and it was a full half hour before I could return to the kitchen and the washing up.

At last the coast seemed clear and I set about making a scary ghost to hang in the drive on Halloween night. I have made the skull last week and today I attached it to a wire coat hanger, draped long swaths of white muslin from the hanger to wave in the breeze and added a muslin cowl for a sinister ghostly nun look!

I was in the process of attaching a pair of skeletal hands when my gardeners arrived to do the lawns.

They are a father and son team and are very knowledgeable, efficient and will undertake most types of gardening work. Earlier this year they made and fitted a new wooden arch at the top of the patio steps to replace the one brought down by a winter gale.

This morning we needed to discuss the cost of, and the timetable for the trimming of some ivy which is growing through the roof ties and into the loft!

I dislike removing ivy as it is such good cover for birds to nest in and the berries are a wonderful food source for them in late winter.

We decided that it would be OK to leave the job for a month or two when the berries had been eaten and made made the decision as to scaffolding versus ladders,(scaffolding was decided upon) then discussed the removal of a dead branch currently hanging over the roof of the house. This work would be carried out in the next week or so. This done I returned to my neglected ghost, but before I could attach the hands I spent a good half hour searching for a missing roll of cello tape!

I had decided to cook pasta for dinner in order to use up the last of our tomatoes and courgettes, only now did I realise the I had no Red Pesto, an ingredient vital when the fresh basil has gone.

My son was busy writing, Pa was asleep and it was by now pouring with rain, With a deep sigh I put on my coat, grabbed a brolly and trudged up the lane to the shop.

Our local shop is wonderful and I have never yet asked for an item which they did not have from, profiteroles to garden canes… they stock the lot. It is not however the place to visit if one is in a hurry as first one and then another enquires after ones health and the condition of everyone in the family.

Village business is discussed, plans made for visits and a general exchange of news is obligatory.

Since everyone who works in the shop is so pleasant and kind in ordinarily this is no hardship and I have spent many a happy half hour chatting in this way.

By the time I was heading down the lane for home it was beginning to be dark. It was almost worth the trouble to see how lovely our house looked, it's widows lit by lamp light and the glow from the library fire.

“Bugger the ghost.”I said aloud and set about preparing our dinner. It was a lovely meal enjoyed by all and after the dishes were done I finally managed to add the finishing touches to the ghost.

It is now ensconced in the garage where it will remain until it is deployed on Halloween, and I hope it will have been worth all the fuss.

The way my luck is running there will be a gale that night and the damned thing will be blown into the next parish!

OF CATS AND MEN

Our home is graced by the presence of two stunningly beautiful, and much loved cats, and we long ago came terms with the fact that these two divas rule the household with a rod of iron!

The older cat Twiggy is a silver grey, sleek and extremely elegant beauty, the younger, a Calico Cat named Moth is the epitome of cute, a sort of Beatrice Potter cat, with such engaging ways that my son; her chief worshiper sees to it that her lightest whim is satisfied…...at once:

These two females hate each other with a passion and cannot tolerate each others presence

under any circumstances and it is for this reason that one lives upstairs and the other down!

This is an arrangement which has many drawbacks.

For instance if Upstairs Twiggy wishes to go out into the garden she must go in to Downstairs Moths sphere of influence. Any meeting between these two results in an impromptu cats choir practice followed by some foul language from both the cats and from the human inhabitants.

Latterly the colder weather has caused Upstairs Twiggy to venture down stairs in order to sit before one of the fires, and trouble has until recently been the result of this encroachment.

Recently however the drawing room which houses one of the stoves has become “Tom Tiddler's Ground” and in this room an uneasy truce has developed.

This means that Twiggy can now access the garden when she wishes without starting a feline war!

Unfortunately the truce does not extend to the garden itself and there is still many a merry chase

when the ladies meet by chance around a corner of the house.

Matters are complicated further by the fact that our garden seems to be a Mecca for every moggie in the village, and a total of eight cats regularly visit our garden, a number of them for very anti social reasons!

One of the male cats, a handsome gentleman named Socks is usually welcomed by Moth, Twiggy however takes a dim views of his liberty taking and has been known to see him off the premises in short order..

The rest of the interlopers are cordially detested by both of our cats, and if any venture to enter the house, or are discovered in the garden mayhem ensues!

Moth, who habitually disports herself before the library fire, which she considers to be her especial property tolerates no nonsense from any other cat, and even Socks, when he visits is obliged to sit on one of the armchairs and a distance from her fire.

Twiggy's forays into the drawing room have become so frequent that we hope that Moth will become accustomed to her presence downstairs. Of course Twiggy too must learn to tolerate her rival and here is the sticking place, for Twiggy is the mistress of high dudgeon, and her temper resembles that of a Tasmanian Devil!

One thing is certain, there will be no real peace until one of the cats gives way…...hmmmmm…..I think hell may well freeze before this happy event takes place!

Time alone will tell.

OUR GHOST RETURNS

During the summer months our resident ghost has taken a holiday from his haunting and we began to think that perhaps he had left his old home, well folks, we were wrong; he's back, with bells on:

Last night the house was once again fragrant with the smell of his pipe tobacco, and once again we are finding doors which we know were locked last thing at night, unlocked, and in some cases open when we go downstairs in the morning.

Last winter after a series of incidents including switching on the television in the middle of the night, I became curious and did some tentative research in to who our spooky guest might be, the results were most interesting.

To begin with I unearthed a village legend which concerns the existence of a “Bogie” which, it is said, terrorised a local family may years ago. In fact they became so afraid that they left the house and moved to another at the other end of the village.

So far I have been unable to ascertain which house was haunted by the Bogie, but it was a promising start.

Next I trawled through village archives and discovered that the house was once owned by a local land owner, I even have a photograph of him taken in around 1890. Conspicuous in this photo is a hefty tobacco pipe, another clue?

I discovered last Halloween that such is our homes reputation for being haunted that a number of village children were afraid to call at the house to “Trick or Treat” and this also explains why our apple, pear and plum trees, considered by many some of the best in the village are never raided by scrumpers!

I was told by an elderly neighbour that a previous owner of the house was obliged to collect his daily newspaper from the shop as the paper boy refused point blank to deliver it!

Fortunately none of us are of a nervous disposition, our last home was haunted by an elderly lady, a previous owner and within a few feet of our house a plague pit dating back to the great plague of 1665 gave rise to some very odd tales, although we saw nothing untoward in the twelve years in which we lived there

In the case of our present spectre I am convinced that he returns to make sure that the present occupants are taking proper care of one of his former properties, and I flatter myself that he will find nothing of which to complain.

Of one thing I am certain, he is fond of cats, ours have been know to purr like little engines and respond with pleasure to an unseen hand stroking their fur, it's an odd thing to watch.

With the approach of Halloween we are preparing for the usual young visitors and only yesterday a lady asked if we would mind if she accompanied her two children when they called on us. Apparently they had heard of our hospitality last year but were afraid to call at the house for fear of meeting the ghost.

I said that of course we should be happy to see both herself and her boys.

It is all very odd, one thing is certain, when children are too afraid to collect free sweets and cookies something is very definitely amiss!

THE PUMPKIN FESTE

Today was the culmination of a summers anxious nurturing, training and quite a bit of espionage, at high noon the judging of the Annual Pumpkin Competition took place in the village hall.

This festival is always well attended as a good lunch is laid on with wine beer or cider and a great deal of fun is had by all.

My son and I were up betimes and with all our chores done we arrived at the hall in good time. A kind neighbour had ferried our entry to the hall, a mode of transport much preferred by my son, who would otherwise had had to push our pumpkin up the hill in a wheel barrow!

We sat at what has become known as “The Naughty Table” where all those given to practical jokes and merry badinage are kept safely apart from the more sedate entrants!

After lunch the formal weigh in began, it was obvious even before this event took place which of the entries had won, for at the end of the row a huge specimen almost twice the size of it's nearest rival towered over the opposition.

Until today we had all believed that the largest pumpkin belonged to a neighbour of ours, who's exhibit had hung all summer in plain sight on the wall surrounding of his cottage, its increasing girth had even been mentioned in the Parish Magazine on more than one occasion throughout the summer

The last minute entry had escaped the village spy ring who's task it was to report the progress of those known to be growing pumpkins for the show. Shrouded among a row of runner beans this giant had gone unnoticed and there were gasps of amazement as it was hefted, by several burly fellows in to the hall.

Our Table was a lucky one for among it's occupants were the second and third prize winners and the prize fr the prettiest pumpkin, which I am proud to say was grown by my son and I. It weighed in at a very respectable 26 pounds and was the sixth largest pumpkin in the hall.

Everyone at our table won a raffle prize and several of us won our chosen pumpkins in the auction which followed the judging.

It was great fun and a lovely way to spend a rainy Autumn afternoon..

I already have my pumpkin patch chosen for next year and my son will soon be out with a family friend on a manure rustling expedition to ensure a whopper for next years show.

Wouldn't it be great if we could grow a hundred pounder!

There is, however a slight problem, should anyone manage to grow a pumpkin weighing more than 120 pounds the scales will be unable to weight it and we will be obliged to ask our GP, who's surgery is located in the village hall for the loan of the scale which he uses to weigh his patients!

WEST WIND

A thick mist hung over the village at first light, but by the time I had mended the fires and fed the cats, the wind had freshened from the west and the mist vanished, chased away by the strengthening gusts.

The tall Maple at the edge of the garden, brilliant these past weeks with Autumn colour responded to this buffeting by shedding it's large bright leaves in a great shower and before I had finished dressing the lawn was carpeted with leaves and the tree was looking very bare.

During the summer the trees which grow at the end of our garden form a dense barrier from the outside world, but once the leaves are gone the vista opens up and the distant hills can be seen from almost every room in the house.

On the down side our house and garden can then be clearly seen from the lane and at this time of the years passing villagers stare with frank curiosity to see what changes have been wrought during the Summer months., and do not scruple to pass judgement upon what they see! Their trenchant remarks can be quite amusing when one can listen unobserved from the small secret garden we are in the process of making.

This new openness provides more opportunities for conversation than in the Summer when only disembodied voices can be heard as folk pass by, and we spend many an interesting half hour swapping village gossip with passing neighbours, invisible to us in the leafy Summertime.

As I dressed my hair(a tricky business since the arthritis in my thumbs has worsened) the wind blew stronger plastering the windows with leaves. When a few moments later a strong burst of sunshine glance on them they lit up the room like a glowing fire, the effect was stunning.

In a fit of whimsy I tried to remember a poem, well a piece of doggerel actually, about the way the wind blows. Unable to recall it fully to mind I wrote my own version of this dotty little rhyme

When the wind is in the north

You'll get cold if you go forth.

When the wind is in the east,

It's neither good to man nor beast.

When the wind is in the west,

Don't forget to wear your vest!

When from the south the wind doth blow.

Throw of your thermals and off you go!

This may not be exactly right but it certainly does state the case, don't you think.

If anyone out there knows the actual words I'd be glad to hear from them.

A DAY OF ODDS AND ENDS

.One consequence of my having been unwell for the past couple of months has been the build up of those small. Irritating little tasks, which would in the normal course of events be done as and when the need arises. Now with guests expected soon and a party in just over a week I stirred my stumps, gritted my teeth and spent the day working my way through a long list of grotty tasks!

With a large order of meat arriving next week and with the prospect of Christmas goodies to be stored, defrosting the freezer (oh how I hate that job) was first on the list. Our freezer is a deep one and I am quite short and this goes a long way to making things difficult. On one occasion I actually fell in to a large chest freezer head first and was obliged to call for help.

This was a considerable time arriving and by the time a rescue was effected I was perishing cold, soaking wet and very cross indeed!

With the contents safely packed in insulated boxes I deployed bowls of hot water to melt the ice and while I waited I prepared a dinner of roast chicken with stuffing, roast potatoes green beans, carrots and apple sauce. With everything ready to pop in the oven later in the day I returned to the to begin phase two.

Now I know that most chest freezers come with a drain these days, but, have you noticed how close to the floor the outlet is? It is impossible to position a bowl under the drain, a tray is about the only thing which will fit and being shallow any attempt to put it up when full results in as big a puddle on the utility room floor as if I had just opened the drain and left it at that!

Th alternative is to empty the tray more often, which occasions so many trips to the sink that it is impossible to take ones eyes off the dripping drain!

I did neither of these things. Once the freezer had defrosted I emptied a laundry basket full of towels awaiting being laundered and allowed the yukie water to soak into them, before loading them into the washing, machine, cunning eh?

Then after cleaning the inside of the freezer I was soon ale to turn it on and pit back its contents

Pheeew!

The coal arrived, delivered by the local shop keeper who is also a family friend, along with the coal he brought a lovely bunch of late Dahlias, wonderful large blooms and I think the best in the village. He also bought a parcel of interesting gossip, a distraction which I welcomed.

Much restored by this small diversion I set about making up the spare bed and tidying the guest room, making sure to cover the bed with a throw as it is The cat Twiggy's favourite roosting place.

Winter curtains needed hanging, the tea try needed replenishing and a tin of cookies deployed in case our guest should get the munchies in the middle of the night.

By four in the afternoon I was shattered, dishevelled and in urgent need of a large Scotch and a hot shower before cooking our dinner.

During the course of this busy day I have hung several pictures, located some missing Christmas gifts, I bought them months ago and could not remember what they were or for whom they had been purchased.

I had sorted out my wardrobe which had become so muddled that it was taking hours to find things.

Fitted a new ironing board cover and changed the bathmats.

It is true that I could have left much of this work to my wonderful cleaning lady but even working, as she does at breakneck speed she finds it difficult to get round the house in the time she has. She is in great demand in the village and we are lucky to have her services at all.

Now it is time for another Scotch, and then bed. Both my wrists are strapped in neoprene braces and I suspect that I. shall need an extra dose of pain relief during the night.

Oh well, I have a good DVD to watch and plate of shortbread to much if sleep evades me. I would feel quite virtuous on account of all my hard work, if not for the fact that I only managed to do half of the tasks had set myself today.

Just between you and I, I think I shall let the dust settle for a day or two before tackling any more chores, As my old granny used to say, “Never put off till tomorrow, what you can leave till next week!”