Wednesday, October 15, 2014


How quickly the hazy days of summer fade into the gloom of autumn and winter.   Was it just two short weeks ago today that I walked the coast path at Thurlestone on a fine, sun-filled, contented afternoon?   And how quickly that contentment can slip into a winter of discontent.   Not just with the weather but also with the prospect of what is in store over the next few months.

First, the commercial nonsense of Halloween - yet another in a growing list of unnecessary and unwanted items seemingly imported from America.  And the kids banging on the door demanding a trick or a treat and disturbing the peace of elderly folk like me - I`m going to get a sign to put on my door inviting them to try their hand next door.

And hard on the heels of that we will have Bonfire Night, supposedly `celebrating` a failed  attempt to blow up Parliament over 400 years ago.   And Barney our retriever cowering in a corner, terrified by the explosive bangs and disturbing the peace of elderly folk like me - I`m thinking of starting a `community initiative` on our village F***book page to ban fireworks on the basis that I would much rather celebrate a successful attempt to blow up Parliament than the bungled fiasco we`re supposed to remember, remember, with gunpowder treason and plot.

And then there`ll be Christmas - the annual excuse for yet another commercial bandwagon.   It`s started already, of course, with aisles in the supermarkets already devoted to what is laughingly described as `seasonal goods.`   It really is time we had a reality check and reminded ourselves of the true meaning of Santa`s birthday.

And then the New Year with more bangs, crashes and wallops to disturb the peace of elderly folk like me - sometimes I wish I could either hibernate or have enough money to flee the country to some magical destination where  no-one has heard or cares about Halloween, the gunpowder plot or even Santa`s birthday.  

And then the wind, the rain, the cold, the snow, flood and tempest but I`m told to be patient and wait all those months for the return of the sun.  But a winter of discontent loometh and a long wait until the son of York makes glorious summer once more and all the clouds that low`r`d upon our house in the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

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