Fallen backward for winter

Well as British Summer Time has officially ended the clocks have fallen backward an hour for winter. It's certainly getting windier outside and leaves are falling off trees but so far we have been lucky not to have much in the way of cold, crisp, mornings. They are on their way, but not yet here.

Although it is winter if feels more like autumn because there still are leaves on trees and it's just a matter of time before one big storm rapes them of their final golden flora. I love the sun light at this time of year as well. It has this beautiful orange or golden caste. Any true photographer will understand what I mean by this, it's all to do with the light temperature. But you don't have to be a photographer to see the beauty at this time of year. To inhale the wind as it starts to flex it's muscles and see how it can bash your skin. Flexing it will throw gale and gust at you, it will try and blow you over, but most of the time it's just can't get there. In a couple of months though, when the chill does really set in, the wind will enjoy inflicting a chilling torture. A time when you come indoors from outside and your face is blushed as blood eventually gets to run to the surface of your face. Lips get chapped, finger tips chilled and it becomes difficult to find a memory of what it was like while the weather was mild. People huddle round their gas fires or radiators, cuddle up to hot water bottles and wonder how many more layers of clothes it will take to fend off the icy feeling. So for the moment, this moment now I enjoy the beautiful low glowing light, the back lighting effect it has on dangling crisp leaves and I'm brave enough to endure whatever autumn or early winter breeze blows.

Tomorrow I'm off to see Sparkling Eyes and Rock Chick, now they live where it is quite a few degrees cooler than London. Which means I'll probably have to fish out a jumper, even gloves. Wonder if I should look for my Russian hat as well? No better not. Sparkling says I look like a mentally ill person when I put it on. But at least a bloody warm mentally ill person.

Return of the ghosts

It's been a few weeks since my last blog, and I'll apologise. I have to get back to the drawing board and start all over again. Well, not entirely all over, just re-start. Things get in the way and before you know it, days become weeks.

On a different note, I'm off to see Sparkling next week and really can't wait to see her. She says she has some plans for me. Her plan is to scare the shit out of me, by making me walking along a deserted road to a club house. She gave me the image of, dark woods, being alone and then having to wait for her to buzz me through a door. She'd see me on the camera. The other thing was it would be Halloween. I'm not scared. I'm a man. As long as I got a torch there will be no problem. Come rain, snow, ghosts or anything else. Nope. I'm afraid of no ghost. Wonder where Bill Murray is when you need him?

A pang for Sparkling

Sometimes I get a pang. I can't help what it is, but I know it is a strong urge to see Sparkling Eyes. To see her smile and rub her feet and listen to any concerns she has. In return...In return. . . . I know it will come to me shortly, hold on. . . . She will tell me to shut up if I talk too much while there is a TV program on she likes, ensure I have lots of little jobs to do, importantly keep me fed and quite often tell me off for putting the t-towel where it should not be. I've taken this as an OCD thing and do my best to comply, but it is difficult. This is because my normal nature is to be untidy which I can't help and it is a continuous fight against. I must also add, it becomes my job to feed the cat or let him out at 4:30 a.m. when he has decided to start meowing. If I am asleep, or if I have woken up and am pretending to be asleep at the time, I am then nudged by Sparkling to get up and do the business. After all it is the least I can do. Hopefully, I'm not still drunk and don't hit my toe on something because I'm blind as a bat at such an unearthly hour of the morning. The cat carries on meowing as he leads the way down the stairs and I am clutching onto a banister. If I talk to him he answers me back. This is the nature of cats. After waiting for him to eat any food I must give him my next task is to open a door or window so he can go out. Ten minutes or so later I get the chance to return to bed. Sparkling then has pulled the duvet tight around her leaving just about enough for me to cover one arm. I don't want to wake her up so somehow then have to tug on the duvet and try to get it back on my shivering body. But regardless of all the trials I go through, not to mention the mischievous Rock Chick who loves to put me into hot water, by twisting things I've said. Yes, so regardless of the hardships I endure with the strength only a man can have, I still pang and look forward to every moment I can spend in Sparkling's company.

Saying this though doesn't mean I can am able to do a 24/7 stint in her wonderful presence. Naturally I'd go crazy and she would probably want to kill me, which is usually a signal to get out and have a run, or a walk to the local Tesco. Then maybe a couple of hours later, I am sufficient tired as not to cause any more problems for Sparkling. If Sparkling is up to it she will come and collect me in the car when I have worn myself out. If she is feeling I need more time then I'm told to get a sack of potatoes and walk back, because the exercise will do me good. When I think of it Sparkling sure knows how to keep me on her fishing line. But I don't want to go anywhere, I am quite happy where I am. And can't wait to see her again.