The sun shone on Wednesday so we had a great walk in the park via a particularly nice cake shop whose doors are kept wide open all year round so I can go in as long as it’s not too busy and I wear a mask. There were students in there from the nearby further education college (16-18 year olds for non-English readers) but they very sweetly gave us a wide berth, which lifted my spirits for the day because I felt included even if it had to be in a detached sort of way. That’s pretty much heaven for me.
I could say that I’m trying their range of Christmas cakes to give me ideas for my own baking and because a lot of cooking features in my books because it would be true. But you and I are friends so I’ll admit that the light fluffy cup cake with the swirl of just the right amount of incredibly soft and not too sweet peppermint icing on the top and the snowman with Matchmaker arms tasted so gorgeous that spoiling myself might well also have a been a factor. My goal is to work my way along the row of Christmas cakes by Christmas Eve, and as you know, I do like a goal.
The fun thing is that the calories involved in my cake are largely counteracted by a long walk through the park where we stop to see what birds have arrived because it’s a site of special scientific interest because Poole Harbour is on a migratory route. Somehow, I don’t think this pair of beauties migrated though. Judging by the way they shot across to be fed by hand when my daughter got the grain out, I have a strong suspicion that they’ve either been dumped or re-homed themselves. Either way, aren’t they gorgeous? Just what you need in winter and they’re going to be inspiration for a quilt. They’re Mandarin ducks, in case you’re interested and apparently they roost in trees and are native to the South since the late eighteenth century. Yes, I do like knowing a little more. It’s part of being a little more at the end of each week, but not getting wider and heavier so I’ll try not to over-indulge. Or, failing that, I’ll have lots of long walks.
Not today though. Today is Thursday and it’s grey and gloomy and the pollution levels are up along with the mould spores and a lot of chores built up while Amy and her friends were talking loudly in my head and telling me next year’s Christmas story, so I let them do it and I’ll now catch up with the jobs. Nothing terribly exciting. Bed changing, washing and ironing, vacuuming, finding a new pair of sharp embroidery scissors because Perle cotton blunts them horribly. Doing a bit of internet shopping,
I’m also going to be renewing the permit for the green recycling bin because the thing about having a small garden that’s stuffed full of plants is that I do a LOT of pruning and sweeping up leaves. They’re almost gone now, and the Brent Geese arrived on Monday, so the cold weather followed them down from the Arctic circle and here they are for you to enjoy. Not as showy as the Mandarin ducks but the best weather forecasters you can get.
Soon, we’ll get frosts and then I’ll move out all the plant pots (I’m not mentioning that there are close on a hundred of them because my beloved husband hasn’t worked that out yet) and clear out all the overwintering snails. I’m not cruel so I’ll pop them into the green recycling bin where there’s plenty for them to eat and an exciting journey ahead of them. My plan to not buy bedding plants has worked really well, so I’m enjoying the winter flowering heathers that have just arrived and are yellows, pinks and whites. That way, the insects and butterflies that come out on mild days have something to eat and I’m gardening for the planet as well as myself and have flowers to enjoy all year round.
So, nothing dramatic’s happening, apart from me crying happily to myself at the ending of the Amy, which is provisionally titled ‘The Best you can.’ In the end, that’s all you can do, isn’t it?
Have a great week and see you on Tuesday and massive thanks to everyone who’s read the two new books and given me my best ever sales for this stage of the month. If it goes on like this I might be able to accept that I am a proper writer, although being an improper one might well be more fun!
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