I cycled back through the watermeadows after taking some Quaker marmalade to Laurie and thought about Keats writing his ode along that self same path nearly two hundred years ago. It was one of those golden evenings lit up like a stage set, and the river smelled so good. I love this time of year.
We picked all the Bramley apples which are huge. I am giving them away as they are so much nicer now than when you put them away and they go all wrinkled and mouldy. We are making crumbles and pies like mad. D is harvesting his pumpkin collection and is extremely proud of them.
I did a lunch for the Catholic adoption society today, (the usual- quiche and appley puds) so we have had the Jewish crowd Monday, Buddhists Wednesday and Catholics on Thursday.
It is my birthday coming up and I have had one card wishing me a happy eightieth, and I am only seventy nine! That`s a bit worrying.
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