When the wind blows
It's windy in the village today. Roads have been blocked by fallen trees and deep floodwater. Down on the coast a few miles away, the waves have been flying high over the piers.
November is well and truly here. After the big booms and flashes of fireworks night and the somber, half muffled tones of the church bells on Remembrance Sunday last weekend, the autumn sunshine makes long, tall shadows. The trees are virtually devoid of leaves, the schoolchildren are wearing gloves and I'm saving on heating oil by wearing my bodywarmer - or 'gilet' as the owner of the rather upmarket shop in the next town remarked to me on Saturday. (I remember her as a lowly bank clerk before her marriage to and divorce from a wealthy gentleman. She doesn't intimidate me. No sir.)
You can tell winter is coming because of all the stupid Christmas catalogues coming through the letterbox, the Yellow Pages propped up outside in a plastic bag (does anyone use Yellow Pages any more?), the mud-splattered cars, walking the dogs in the dark, the smell of woodsmoke from the village chimney pots, Mr Loggins resuming his seasonal chainsaw massacre and the coal lorry parked in the middle of the Square.
But most of all you can tell it is winter because Mr Grigg is on the green cabbage soup diet again. I told you it was windy today.
That's about it
Love Maddie x
November is well and truly here. After the big booms and flashes of fireworks night and the somber, half muffled tones of the church bells on Remembrance Sunday last weekend, the autumn sunshine makes long, tall shadows. The trees are virtually devoid of leaves, the schoolchildren are wearing gloves and I'm saving on heating oil by wearing my bodywarmer - or 'gilet' as the owner of the rather upmarket shop in the next town remarked to me on Saturday. (I remember her as a lowly bank clerk before her marriage to and divorce from a wealthy gentleman. She doesn't intimidate me. No sir.)
You can tell winter is coming because of all the stupid Christmas catalogues coming through the letterbox, the Yellow Pages propped up outside in a plastic bag (does anyone use Yellow Pages any more?), the mud-splattered cars, walking the dogs in the dark, the smell of woodsmoke from the village chimney pots, Mr Loggins resuming his seasonal chainsaw massacre and the coal lorry parked in the middle of the Square.
But most of all you can tell it is winter because Mr Grigg is on the green cabbage soup diet again. I told you it was windy today.
That's about it
Love Maddie x
LOL, no pasties for Mr Grigg then :-)
ReplyDeleteIs there an opt-out for Yellow Pages & Thomson local directory? There really ought to be.
Hee hee - Oh how I laughed at the end! Beautifully written darling - even though I can't stand Winter, you made me feel a little nostalgic for it - but I'll soon get over it when I can't hear myself think for the howling of the wind outside (well that'll be now then - I am SO over Winter already)!! Anyway, so sorry I haven't been round in a while. Have been a terrible blog friend to all. Hope you've been ok. Have missed far too many posts but read one of your comments on mine that sounded liek you were feeling miserable - or was it just the wind (the elements and Mr Grigg included)?? Kiss to you xxx
ReplyDeleteOh yes Gawd bless the gilet - Mr. R is rationing the heating. Stay warm x
ReplyDeleteI too am simarlarly adorned in a fetching pale blue one from a 2nd hand shop it is actually a mans so makes me look like a michelan woman when zipped up. Do I care - not a whole lot as it's bloomin' snug!
ReplyDeleteSunshining here to day and the wind hasn't reached us yet!
CKx
Wind is probably in London as Mr Grigg is up there for a conference. If you hear about gales on the news or the Thames suddenly rising, blame it on the cabbage soup!
ReplyDeleteI'd be more worried that someone will light a match near Mr Grigg at an inopportune moment. ;D
ReplyDeleteI just love your descriptions about everything! :0)
ReplyDelete