Pumpkin Heads, check
Severed Head, check
Witch, check
Ghoul, check
Sweets, check

Kiddies, err nope

Not a single trick or treater to be seen. mind you since the snooty neighbours all close their security gates and its tipping down, we can understand why.

Oh well, the neighbours were quite bemused by our lit pumpkins, obviously will be an item on the Parish meet, bringing the area into disrepute.

As you can see Autumn came and covered the garden with her blanket of rust.

We’ve swept up hundreds of leaves already and yet Autumn waits until we turn around and relays her carpet.

Could be a full time job until the trees are bare. Anyone got a leaf blower??

Mind you, it looks pretty, a true country woodland scene and the squirrels see to love larking about.

VictorMeldrew’s nephew here. My current daily journey on the scummy train services that run in the UK has caused me to raise a formal complaint with a well known franchise operator.

Put aside the fact that the price is too high, the service is over crowded and the train is disgustingly filthy, what you now have to contend with is getting to the train doors through sacks of rubbish. Iincensed by this, I turned into Super Grumpy Ole Git, pants on the outside of my trousers, cape flapping in the wind (but then I did have sprouts the day before), I collared the “Catering Assistant” who in no uncertain terms told me to sod off and leave him alone, so I escalated to the train guard (sorry bloke charging for the tickets and just wanting to go home), he also wasn’t concerned about passenger safety an simply said in the event of an issue or accident they would simply move the rubbish out of the way. Now being a human being I know how we function and “approach the exit in an orderly manner” is translated into blind panic, so the last thing on anyone’s mind is to simply move the rubbish out of the way.

So Super Grumpy Ole Git has now lodged a formal complaint referencing Health and Safety. Watch this space, still at least I won’t get bored.

it is with sadness and a tear that we said a fond farewell to our littleMr Spike, aged 13ish.

The friendliest of pets, clingy, needy and loving. We will miss you so much.

Rest well and suffer no more.

Apparently is never done, after another tough week, Mrs Fogg starts to rake up the dead leaves. Never mind they’ll all be back tomorrow.

Personally I’d love to get a leaf blower, whoo Yaaaa!