We’ve tipped into winter. And just to underline that fact, the clocks went back last night. Lovely to have an extra hour in bed, but it is almost dark and barely five o’clock. There are times when I think those animals that hibernate have the right idea. But if I were a hedgehog I should eat worms have fleas and risk being squashed every time I crossed the road. There are good reasons why I have never seen a hedgehog in my patch of London.
Today has been about domesticity; boot cleaning, washing, ironing, making soup, baking my first purple cake. It doesn’t look so purple now it’s cooked, but I had notions that Prince might be placing an order and my pension worries could be vanquished.
I used frozen fruit, letting it defrost and drain for a good hour, then stirred it into the mixture in the usual way. I wish I had taken photographs, but that’s another thing about winter, indoor photography is a bit, well, dull.
Outside it wasn’t the brightest day either, but MasterB enjoyed himself hunting in the leaves, showing off his party trick of dancing on the railings to a neighbour, racing up and down the trees, spying on the neighbours from the top of the wall, lying down on the recycling bag.
By the afternoon he was tired, so he remade my bed and had a snooze.
I’m going to get on with my tax return now. The excitement is almost overwhelming me. Fingers crossed the locals decide it’s too cold to be out letting off fireworks, or MasterB will be spending the evening inside.