I just looked back at the photos of the summer, and thought what a fabulous patchwork quilt they would make. All jumbled together, faces, colours and places; I could remember all the stories that passed across the dining room table.

I loved it all, meeting up with everyone just back from holidays, or being en route to somewhere else, it was a way of us gaining extra travel for ourselves, by proxy!

Lyn from New Zealand came to us from the Arctic Circle then Norway and told us of horrible tourist boats encircling a mother polar bear and her cub. Natasha and Leo told us of their three months in Greece working on organic farms, the last of which was in Thessaloniki where there were bears and snakes and copulating tortoises. Nick and Lin told us of the Blue Mountains and the Hunter Valley in Australia. Rosie and Pete were entranced with Alnwick Castle in Northumberland. They had come up in their campervan, stopping where ever they felt like, enjoying the freedom of the road. Irene and Mike told us of the cruise from America to Canada, and life on the ocean wave. Gerry and Cathal shared the joys of the rescue zoo where Darcey and Dylan got up close to animals who had been previously mistreated but were now lording it around like the kings they are.

John and I poured the prosecco, dished out the salads and chicken and fish and hazel nut meringues, and enjoyed their stories, adding to our own wonderful year.

Now, they are all gone. The house is quiet, and John has suddenly pulled out all the old rusting iron balustrades from the decking and is going to replace them all with  new ones. Not a trivial project.

I won three firsts at the village show and two seconds for my quilts and embroidery! Quite fun.

I have the fairy quilts to finish before I embark on the new Australian quilt for my new grandchild expected in November.

Now the new Academic year approaches and I have enrolled in 1920s literature. I have read Hemingway’s ‘Fiesta’, am reading Sean O’Casey’s ‘The Shadow of a Gunman’ and watched the brilliant re-make of ‘Journey’s End’. Lots more to do, but at least I have started and will be ready for next Friday.

The brambles are divine this year, and we gorged ourselves along the East Coast path, and every morning I admire the spiders’ webs strung along the roses and across the washing line in gay abandon. Gerry was horrified yesterday as she walked into the equivalent of Charlotte’s Web and a million little spiderlings flung themselves at her head and dashed about in amongst her hair and down her neck! She even thinks she ate a few. Meanwhile I await the autumn crocuses I planted… so far in vain. I shall be very disappointed if they don’t appear.

So it is nearly over, this wonderful summer of lush flowers and hot hazy days where we cycled and picnicked and walked about like in the magical days of yore where I remember tar bubbles erupting on the road as we walked home from school.

Now we have to unearth our walking boots and go practising as the Camino awaits – the walk to Santiago Compostela. We are going to do the last 120 miles of it in October. My birthday will be spent with tapas and pilgrims. Sounds nice.