Season of mists and mellow melancholy

Sorry I have been away a while. Since starting this blog I have had a couple of unscheduled breaks from it because sometimes I find I have very little to say. Or I stop thinking that what I have to say is very interesting. One or the other.

Since the show went up (and came down again, yesterday, very sad) I have found that I don't want to start anything else just yet. There are a few projects and ideas bubbling away under the surface but I have given myself permission to not do anything this autumn other than go to work, teach my classes (apples and onions this week), nest, enjoy being around my lovely family and maybe bake a few things. I made rye bread on Wednesday. Hilarious. Lobbed deftly it could kill someone.

I'm sat here at the moment staring at the rain and feeling a bit sad about being single. I'm not one of those Bridget Jones types (really) who constantly whinge about not having a boyfriend but at this time of year I seem to miss the ex the most. Right about now we would be getting excited because the pub in our village has just lit its first fire of the season, praying for a good frost so we could legitimately light ours, snuggling up to watch telly on a Sunday night and planning crisp smokey walks to pick up leaves and conkers and spot animal tracks. Of course I need to remember that there is also a real possibility we would instead be having an argument of epic proportions about money and his lack of commitment etc. Rose tinted glasses and all that.

There's a reason they call it retail therapy.

Most of the time it's the money that matters. The rent, the mortgage and the bills. Clothes and adornments are not so important as there's a much bigger picture surrounding you. In quiet moments a little bitterness creeps in as you ponder the boots you've been silently coveting for a couple of months, unable to justify the expense but the soul is consoled by the thought of the romance of your existence; the cottage, the wooden beams, the lovely man, the future you will have and suddenly the sacrifice is not so huge really.

However, when said Lovely Bloke decides the grass is greener elsewhere, the cottage starts to crumble around your ears due to neglectful landlords and the future is spirited away before it really had a chance to begin, then, the clothes and nice things Really Matter. Hence the lovely Coast dress, a vintage Jigsaw bolero and sea green beads from Noa Noa. I see your disapproving look but I'm making up for 5 years of martyred abstinence here and there's still a long way to go.