Season of Leaves and Chick Pea Soup

'Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness?'  Not if you are one of the many men now sweeping leaves up from pathways, car parks, various buildings, or just clearing them from the gutter of a great many houses.  I was considering this as I watched these leaves fly off the tree opposite, aided by the 16 mph wind, according to the BBC weather site.  As the afternoon sun glints on the leaves, both in the tree and scattered on the ground all around, it looks marvellous.  For those slipping on them on the pavement a different emotion might be coming into view.

I recall at the hospital in Maida Vale the three or four trees we had the privilege of watching.  This was not considered a privilege as we swept up between parked cars day after day.  Of course it does not last, but if you were on the early shift you had most of the work to do.  How come I was on the early shift when leaves were falling I ask?  Tsk!  

This seasonal thing makes me wonder.  Why seasons?  Why not just have one season where things grow all year round and leaves fall, er, compactly?  Why cold and heat, why not just nice temperatures to suit?  There again some seasons are well worth having.  The sunsets and autumn colours can be magnificent.  The darkness less so.  Imagine darkness before electric light?  No wonder the ancients went home and locked themselves in at night, that is nightfall, none of this midnight day ending rubbish, I think that began with the Romans.  I suppose many societies had forms of lighting at night but only when gas and electric arrived could we pollute the night sky as well as we do now.  

Snow of course produces wonderful scenes, though it left me and my neighbour flat on our backs at different times.  Summer speaks of long days, joy and happiness, Spring however, in my humble view, and you realise how humble this view is, can be the best of seasons.  Looking into the bright fullness to come, the new life all around, lambs gambolling, buds opening, birds flocking in from Africa, and a happiness seen amongst people, even in big cities.

We now approach a proper winter.  The leaves fall, the weather gets colder, winds come from the north, and the gas and electric take a great leap upwards in January, the busiest time for these crooks!  Do we have a Tory government?  Do Ofgem represent the public?  Is the Pope a Catholic?  

Bah!

Once again I attempted Chick Pea soup.  This is usually OK, and today I added, amongst other ingredients, Turmeric Powder obtained from Sainsburys.  To this I added a wee bit of Cayenne Pepper, and other things.  Unlike the fish in the oven that I forgot while scouring Twitter the soup did not burn.  This surprises me however, for when I attempted to eat some tonight I realised I had been somewhat overeager with the ingredients.  Cayenne and Turmeric go together quite well but possibly not in the amounts that fell into the pot today.  That pint glass of water has come in handy tonight, and I may not require to put the heating on for a day or two, no matter how low the temperature drops.

Still, I suppose this is healthy...

Monday Evening

I discovered around lunchtime yesterday that it is now November. One day Autumn was changing the colour of the leaves, although not as much as this picture has, they ought to be bright yellow not sullen brown, and yesterday the rain came! It was so bad that Dundee United had to abandon their game at half time! Now that doesn't happen that often these days. The weather was not so bad here, it stopped raining occasionally, but winter has set in. This of course gladdens the hearts of those greedy utility company folk. The electric and gas people will be rejoicing like a banker who has found a fifty pence piece, and already there are grave noises about price increases. While it is true Russia increases the prices there is no doubt who makes most profit. Still, mustn't grumble I say, just rejoice and get on with it like I always do. I'm not one to complain you know.



Our good friend Rob at Mulled Vine has been doing some writing recently, this in spite of the three females in the house and a job to do! His completed work, in the form of a diary, has drawn admirers to him like pretty young girls around a rich, senile old man (no not me, the four letter word shows that is not likely to be me!). Read this and see if you can do anything for this talented writer. He does not want to be rich, just 'comfortable.'