What glorious days! A big family get-together on a day that started off cold and drizzly and turned into a warm autumn afternoon, and we took Mum and Dad to one of their favourite hidden valleys. Then a whole day at Seven Stories in Newcastle, the utterly wonderful National Centre for Children's Books, with over twenty other children's authors. If you love books for children and you're ever anywhere Newcastle, it's a must. Perhaps I'll tell you more about it another time, but it's getting late and I have to be up in the morning.
Today was another of those afternoons, a golden day. I'd written all morning, so I went out and planted bulbs, and Tony cut the grass. Everything smelt of cut grass and freshly turned earth. Then we brought out the stepladder so that I could get to the top of the apple tree and pick the last of the fruit, turning my head because the late sun was so strong that it dazzled through the leaves and branches. And I thought - can this really be me? Here, doing this? How enchanted, how story book, is this?
Speaking of Apples -
Ooh, and then this evening 'er sister rang up and said, you know when you were at my house, well you left yer hat, shall I put it in the post? No, she says, I'll pick it up next time I'm there, say hello to it for me. Now, I happen to know that hat, it's a green one and dead plain, if you ask me it needs a bit of decorating. It's good squirrel country round where her sister lives, I'm sure we could spare a few nuts and elderberries, and plenty of feathers, ooh, feathers, them pheasants is everywhere Plenty of sheep wool, too, looks very nice when you've got the mucky bits out. I'll get to work.