Back last night from Malta, which was so summery – and I’m feeling excited/delighted that autumn has arrived here in London.
(Yes, it’s a cliché, but the thing with clichés is that they’re true.)
We welcome summer with joy, our arms open, embracing the warmth (so longed for after the cold winter), the feel of grass on our feet, our faces lifted up to bask in the light, cold drinks in our hands, long evenings spent chatting outside with friends and family.
But by September, the heat has turned my limbs lethargic, the dryness has left summer’s freshness a little dusty, my wardrobe’s looking a bit wilted and my toes are dying to ditch the flipflops for Proper Shoes.
There’s something about that first crisp autumn evening, the golden light, the smell of leather handbags and the sense of Things to be Done that’s as exciting as the start of a new year – but without the pressure and diet advertisements.
And the bounteous vegetables.
I get quite excited about vegetables. I’m no vegetarian, but they’re just so delicious and tasty and varied and – they make me feel great.
So it was that I skipped out to the farmers market today, Ted’s hand gently restraining my enthusiasm, his other hand rather more firmly on his wallet.
While I was loading up on veggies, he was drawn here like a moth to a flame …
I gazed adoringly at these:
(I may also have slipped a couple of chocolates from Eloise into my pocket. He doesn’t know about them yet … TBH it’s TBD if he ever will …)
We returned, laden with tomatoes, carrots, beetroot, corn on the cob, Romanesco broccoli, butternut squash, some beautiful, fat, papery bulbs of garlic and a handsome free-range chicken. NOM.
I sense some hearty autumnal salads, pasta bakes and veggie curries in the near future … #prescient