It's getting to that time of year where the nights are longer than they days. Oddly, being a summer baby, the autumn and winter months are my favourite time of year. Living in the UK I always feel that summer is like a game of Russian roulette, one day its beautifully warm and sunny, next thing you know it’s raining cats and dogs. But you can always rely on England to do autumn and winter properly.
(Interesting fact: Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof. Hence the saying, "It's raining cats and dogs." There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.)
It’s not just the weather. Soon it's time for Halloween, with homemade costumes and fake blood galore. I love bonfire night and the romantic notions that fireworks spark in the heart of every girl.
I devour hearty stews and casseroles made by Muma, followed by crumble with custard or... MINCE PIES AND BRANDY BUTTER!
Christmas shopping is my favourite past time, with the stores and streets alight with festive cheer. The windows full of merry scenes and cheesy Christmas tunes blaring out of every shop.
Winter fashion is all about being warm, and cosy with mittens and bobble hats, big jumpers and boots, the best part being you don't need to shave your legs!
The fact that London was bombed for two months straight and us Brits stiff-upper-lipped ourselves back to work, but a foot of snow causes the whole country grinds to a standstill makes me despair. But a Snow Day from work or school is definitely something worth celebrating about.
And finally, I love Christmas. Christmas Eve, Christmas day, Boxing Day, New Year and all the food, the dresses, traditions and parties that goes with it.
But I digress, back to my journey.
I get up at 6am in the pitch black, and get home by 8pm - in the pitch black. But it is worth it. Each day I am treated to seeing the sunrise and sunset as I stare out of my train window, nature’s beauty at its best.
This week I have noticed that the leaves on the trees and hedgerow have started to turn in to those majestic gold’s and reds. The fields glisten in the morning sun, it's not quiet cold enough for frost yet, but you can tell it is just round the corner. Winter vegetables are always better after the first frost, and that is a fact.
I pass horses out in their fields, now sporting their rugs for extra warmth.
Another thing I notice, which most people wouldn't give another thought to, is the increased amount of pheasants strolling through the fields. The boys are boasting their shining feathers in stunning shades of green. While the girls, more modestly dressed in brown, look almost plain by comparison. Their presence marks the imminent start of the shooting season. During which my family will enjoy as much fresh pheasant and partridge as we desire from the local estate.
The majority of the fields I pass on my way into London have now had their crops harvested, and half of them have been ploughed. Hay bales rolled and left looking like sleeping beasts in the open space.
The sheep are look like sheep again, dressed up in their thick woolly coats to keep them warm. They look completely different to just a few months before after their grade one shearing in the spring.
I often see people taking their dogs for early morning walks through the fields and feel incredibly jealous. How lovely it must be to spend the morning with your animals, watching them trail the scent of wild life tracks left in the night, while filling your lungs with the crisp, cool autumnal air. In my imagination, after their walk, the person I see walking their dog goes home and has a good English breakfast to set them up for the day.
As my train pulls in to Shepreth station, I can see the massive wild blackberry bushes, with their fruit swollen and black, ready to be picked. It takes all my self-restraint not to get off my train and spend the morning gathering blackberries to put in a crumble with the apples from my Grannies garden.
Instead, I sit here on my train sipping my Chai tea, and inhaling the humid, stuffy air (more other peoples breathe than anything else). In an attempt to get closer to the outside, i open a window, only to be greeted with “tuts” and evil glares from the other passengers, some of which put their jackets on JUST to make a point. But I don't care, because more than anything I wish I could be out in that countryside, wellies on and with my dog running out in front of me.
You can take the girl out of the countryside, but you can't take the countryside out of the girl.
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