I have had a plague of bugs recently, and it has been so debilitating. When one enjoys rude health as a rule, it is an affront to be stricken with a persistent cough that goes on and on and on. I had the x-ray, and all is well, so just had to ride the storm, so to speak.

When I was indisposed I made rash orders for a new mop and a long black pleated skirt – such decadence and such fun. I had ogled Natasha’s mop whilst in Wales, and I felt like I was breaking a commandment, ‘Thou shalt not covet thy daughter’s mop,’ but I did, and now I am so glad I did as I whizz around squirting and mopping – no bucket, just a flash and a dash and it’s all done! The pleated skirt will go well for my Christmas night out at the Rosyth Ex Servicemen’s Club… a great venue, where all the ladies’ groups from around about dance to Neil Diamond on a bit of parquet and gobble up turkey and drink festive cheer at ridiculously cheap prices.

But that’s still to come. We have been to Wales, celebrated Halloween with a little lioness and a sparkly cat,

helped out Tasha and Leo as they completed animation workshops, and then we drove back up north and marched briskly in the Lake District. So pretty, autumn leaves framing the lakes, quaint towns and picturesque stone dikes, and always the ghosts of Wordsworth and his sister, rising like the ethereal mists around the shores of Grasmere.

My university class is over for this term. Each week I would ruminate on the writers of the 1890s. Kipling, Hardy, GB Shaw, HG Wells and WB Yeats. We finished with Joseph Conrad. It was a mixed bag to read through, and I did like it all. I went on to find a biography of Georgie, the wife of WB Yeats, and was mesmerised at the extent the spirit world dominated their marriage. They consulted the Ouija board on all manner of things, and I had no idea how ‘open’ their marriage was. Maude Gonne and Lady Gregory were of course huge in his life, but they were actually prior to his marriage.

Anyway next term I am going to move from English Lit to French Lit, and study Hugo, Zola, and Guy di Maupassant. A different lecturer, so we shall see.

John and I watched a rather gruelling  documentary about meat the other night; it was so upsetting. I am going to stop eating red meat, unless it’s from Mr Saunders in Edinburgh. And only now and then.

John has been doing the shopping while I was sick, and bought the cheapest mince from Aldi. He probably thought it was a bargain 🙄. You should have seen the fat and water that came off when I fried it. Nearly a mug full. I had to pour a kettle of water down the sink as I had a fear that all the pipes would be blocked. Imagine our arteries. I was making Delia’s Ragu sauce, and in the end I had to bin the lot. We shall feast on cabbages forthwith.

I have started a new quilt. The design is called Dear William, a tribute to William Morris, but as I could not find enough of the actual William Morris fabric I have decided to do it all in a symphony of greens. It is a hard slog, and a lot of fiddly cutting and stitching, but it does look nice. So far I have done seven out of nine blocks.

We did enjoy a very delicious lunch with Irene and Mike. He is a superb cook, and we were his guinea pigs for his new birthday present cook book. It is Dishoom, from the curry restaurant, newly opened here in Edinburgh.

We had thrice marinated and cooked chicken on skewers (they tasted like silk, so smooth) and dahl and prawns and so many other things. While we were waiting for the final preparations, Irene plonked down a ball of wool beside me and gave me an impromptu crochet lesson! ‘Pay attention now, and stop knitting, use the hook, not your fingers!’ Then she showed me how to make Swedish gnomes, I felt as though I had come to a Santa’s workshop! Fabulous.

So the dark wintery days are here, and walks along the beach are bleak beside stunning pastel sunsets.

Snowmen and glitzy lights are starting to compete against flashing trees in suburban gardens. I don’t remember such wild devil-may-care flamboyance in my young day. It used to give me a guilty pleasure walking past houses with their curtains left open, and I was able to get a glimpse of other people’s decorations and homely scenes.

We had Darcey to stay for the weekend. I had to laugh as she negotiated a very slippery pavement, white with frost. We crossed the road to the other side, which was reassuringly black and safe. She turned and screwed up her eyes and stuck out her tongue. ‘Good grief, Darcey, what was that all about?’ I asked. She responded, ‘I just gave the bad pavement my angry face, that will sort it!’ Indeed.

Dillon has turned two – imagine. Where does the time go? He is obsessed with wheels and trucks and cars. Easy to buy for!

This year on Christmas day, John and I shall be dining chez Gerry and family, which will be very nice. Lots of phone calls with Natasha and Nick and all of John’s family, so that will be good too. And then it will be a New Year, and we have just decided that we are going to sail down the Amazon River on what looks like a very rickety house boat. We are So So excited!

In the meantime we have an election (groan …), scandals with Prince Andrew, Strictly Come Dancing finals and warm winter evenings.

Till next time, adieu!