August is a funny month, everything seems suspended, and the house is dead quiet today, even the cats have hardly bothered to wake up for their tea. (It is plural at the moment as Shirley has come to stay from Brighton)
I have just been away in the Isle of Wight to join the annual migration of Darlings etc and a dozen or so of us have been sitting in rows on beaches, occasionally plunging into the sea. There is a sort of mud pool and the others (not me) like rolling around in it and emerge looking grotesque. I find it quite distressing, but I suppose it is what posh people do in spas and health farms. Anyway, I certainly feel the benefit of the sea air and my hacking cough has disappeared, though I have a red peeling nose.
I have been making some damson jam which has set well, but everything is very sticky, taps, doorhandles, it seems to have got everywhere. I am looking forward to blackberry picking, not long now.