...is a bittersweet month for me. That is because it is the end of the summer, the garden is about to go dormant and it is back to school. The latter holds less dread for me now as (a) I am not a teacher T.G., (b) I have left school and (c) so have my kids. But every September that comes brings all those brats back on the roads, and even worse, their parents in their huge cars running the little darlings to school. Why can't the great lumps walk? Three miles I walked to Primary School, just from the bus station when I was at St Louis but with a huge bag of books and perished elastic in my cherubs. Imagine me at 12 lugging the huge satchel in one hand and holding up my knickers with the other. Those were the days, happiest days of my life. (Not)
The picture I am about to post is an end of summer picture of my beloved. That is a whistle in his hand and he has just broken off from playing some traditional ditty called "The Soldier's Jig" note not "Song". He used to flute in an Orange band but now he says those tunes are far too easy.