The party's over

After a fun packed summer of deflated air beds, vicious stinging nettle injuries and a very wet bottom sustained while listening to moanie musicians on harps, I’ve got that back to school feeling; keep getting the urge to polish my shoes and cover my books with nasty wallpaper. I’m also scanning the local press for stimulating courses like felt making or bongo for beginners. Of course, it’s vegetable city at my place at the moment. And where there’s a glut, there’s a chutney to be made. What else to do with courgettes the size of truncheons? Of late, there’s been a bit of heat in my back yard (not a euphemism) but evenings are turning a little chilly. In fact, my good friend E tells me his inverted nipple was out for five hours yesterday so I know it’s time to bring out the woollies.  Oh, and I’ve heard the ‘C’ word twice already and Asda is selling crackers. Actually, forget the bongo and felt making; I need something more dynamic – maybe Meditation for people who want to kill during Chhrrrrr….. See, can’t even say it.