Tuesday, 1 September 2015

Mists and mellow fruitfulness!


Yesterday we were supposed to be going to Bicester Village, but if you were anywhere near the South of England, you will know why we didn't. So we go today instead.

H.I. says she needs a new pair of trousers, but - of course - she doesn't. She actually bought a new pair 3 days ago, but she still needs some more. You know when a child says, "I need that chocolate bar!"?

I, on the other hand, need to get on with some work before we go to Rome. I ordered a large quantity of cut marble late last week and, yesterday afternoon - a Bank Holiday Monday - Giovanni from the marble yard called me to tell me it was ready to collect! This has to be a record, or they are short of money and work.

When I was a kid, I hated this day, the 1st of September, because it meant a return to the dreaded school. I still cannot understand children who love school, or adults who say that school days were the best of their lives.

The best days in my school amounted to one - the one before the Christmas break, when we were told we could stop working and relax. Having to attend the Carol Service was a small price to pay.

For the first time in many years, the 1st of September has coincided with the first time that Autumn can be detected in the air. This must be to do with the recent weather conditions, as usually it occurs sometime in the middle, or even late August.

It is a subtle and feint (yes, feint, not faint) combination of scents and fluctuations in temperature and humidity. The hay which was harvested long ago is beginning to rot a little, the leaves are doing the same before taking the plunge, and the mushrooms are thinking about having sex in the open air.

The mushrooms. I have promised myself plenty of fungi foraging trips this Autumn, because for the last 3 or 4 years, other things seem to have got in the way. I no longer go shooting on Sundays, so that is no excuse.

So let me be the first to use this title - the one I stopped about 140 people from using unselfconsciously many years ago. Most of you don't need reminding about this, but I am only telling Shawn about it to let her in on the joke and save her from having to trawl all the way back through about 2000 posts to find it. Not that she would...

19 comments:

  1. I only ever pick and eat field mushrooms Tom as I am not sure about the rest (although I often buy them) but this year has been a marvellous year for them - the best in years, so make the most of it.

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  2. I don't often read the romantics these days. My loss, I see now. What a treat to be sent back to the lushness of Keats.

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    1. I like your name, Shawn Noble Maeder.

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    2. A more noble maeder I have never met.

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    3. Thank you, Mise. Would you like it better if I dropped the "Maeder"?

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    4. Mise (pronounced 'Misha', not 'Mice') is a lovely Irish woman who used to dig potatoes in a village near Stroud, has a Scottish husband and 2 daughters who are both pink. I think that's all you need to know right now.

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    5. What are you going to tell Shawn about me?

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    6. I was going to let her make her own mind up.

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  3. nowadays - the go-getting youngsters don't care about convention.

    And artists always need trousers, hence the many trouser bursaries available from philanthropists.

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    1. All artists don't need trousers - I'm thinking of Eric Gill. He didn't even need underpants.

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  4. Good grief. I have not read Keats since college, not to offend you with a "school" word. Yes, it is autumn and I have suffered several sneezing allergy attacks.

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  5. I love the title of this post! And there's a hint of autumn in the air here this morning, too. Only a hint. Summer doesn't like to give it up where I live.

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    1. As we say around here, One swallow does not Anne Summers make.

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    2. A beautiful phrase
      Well worth nicking

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