It’s been a pretty damp and dismal week. We’ve had the occasional bit of sunshine but mainly it’s been grey and gloomy, and a bit chilly, very autumnal.
Daisy has been very confused by the changing of our clocks last week. Her body clock quite accurately tells her when it is time for her afternoon walk followed, naturally, by dinner. She starts to “remind” you that it’s time to go out about 3.00 pm (4.00 pm BST) and can’t work out why we’re not putting boots and coats on to take her for a stroll. Same with dinner – the reminders start coming about 4.00 pm (5.00 pm BST) which has been dinner time for the past six months. Nope, sorry darling – we need to wait another hour, I’m afraid. Won’t take her long to work it out but I can imagine how pissed off she must be when her dinner doesn’t arrive at the appropriate hour simply because some idiots decided to “save daylight” by messing with the clocks. And, I guess she probably doesn’t remember when she suddenly got her walk and dinner an hour earlier when daylight savings time began.
We’ve not done a lot this week. (That probably should read “I’ve not done much this week.”) Penny has been busy making preparations for Halloween and the Witches’ Coven. This is a village tradition which started during the first Covid lockdown. As the children were not able to trick-or-treat around the village, the Garden Club committee decided to hold a socially-distanced Halloween gathering in the bus shelter on the Upper Green. The committee members donned their finest witches’ costumes (the one male member of the committee came along dressed as the grim reaper, complete with scythe). The kids were able to dress up in their costumes and “fish” for Halloween treats amongst other activities. The adults were encouraged to come along by the promise of lashings of mulled wine and Parkin, a gingerbread cake traditionally made with oatmeal and black treacle, which originated in Northern England. It is traditionally eaten on Guy Fawkes Night (5 November), and throughout the winter months.
The origin of the word parkin is unknown. The first published dated reference to parkin was collected from 1728 from the West Riding of Yorkshire Quarter Sessions, when Anne Whittaker was accused of “stealing oatmeal to make parkin.”
The first Witches’ Coven was a great success and it’s been held every Halloween since. After the Parish Council banned the use of the bus shelter, ever since that first year it’s been held underneath a large and magnificent oak tree on the Lower Green. And, it gets better every year. Not that I am a huge fan of Halloween in general but the kids love it and the Garden Club committee members enjoy their evening of dressing up.
Fortunately, the weather mainly held off (there were a few spots of rain) and the kids thoroughly enjoyed themselves, bobbing for apples, pinning the cat on the witch’s broom, dipping their hands in a cauldron of wiggly worms (spaghetti) to find some plastic creatures, etc.
And, the parkin was very good!
I spent much of yesterday afternoon climbing up and down a very tall ladder pruning the wisteria at the gable end of the house. This is a task which I undertake every year about this time and, although I have a theoretical understanding of what I should be doing, I wouldn’t claim any skill or expertise in the matter. Mostly it’s a matter of fighting my way through a tangle of “whips” which have managed, over the course of the summer, to wind themselves into an impenetrable snarl creeping into the guttering and up through the slates into the roof space. At nearly three-quarters of a century old, I shouldn’t be doing this! Balancing precariously at the top of a tall ladder is not my idea of a fun afternoon.
We’re looking forward to the arrival of our great friends the Waltons and the Kelly-Browns towards the end of the week. We’re off to see the RSC production of Cyrano de Bergerac at the Swan Theatre in Stratford on Friday evening. Even better, they’re coming on Thursday which will enable them to attend that evenings’ Moreton Pinkney Film Night which this month is The Way starring Martin Sheen. Fish & chips and all!
Interesting that this month’s film is The Way – a father heads overseas to recover the body of his estranged son who died while traveling the “El Camino de Santiago,” and decides to take the pilgrimage himself. We’ve just recently said “Good-bye” to Max, the daughter of a friend of Adam’s and Ava’s who just returned from having completed the pilgrimage herself. (Those of you with better memories than mine will recollect that I mentioned her visiting in August to leave her luggage with us while she travelled). She had a great adventure, completed the journey in less time than she had planned and enjoyed meeting people of all sizes and shapes from all over the world. Australians and New Zealanders seemed to be the most prevalent, according to her. She’s now collected her belongings and flown back to China for a visit with family and friends. It was a pleasure to have her and we hope to see her again soon.
And, I think that’s about it for this week. As it happens, today would be my maternal grandfather’s 123rd birthday as well as my paternal grandmother’s 13oth birthday – what are the chances of that? Happy birthday to you both. And, a Happy Birthday this week to my lovely niece Dana who will be a bit older on the 4th November than she is now.
Meanwhile, keep breathing, keep happy, keep smiling, keep exercising, be good, be careful, and keep safe. And be gentle to wasps and bees – we need all the pollinators we can get.
Lots of love to you all,
Greg