Spent a riotous long bank holiday weekend immersed in the depths of family, surrounded by brothers and cousins and happily regressing to the age of about nine. Every year we descend on my lovely and extremely long-suffering stepmother to camp in her fields, swim in her pool, take over her kitchen and drink her out of house and home whilst reminiscing about past summers spent together and slotting neatly back into the roles we filled all those years ago (in my case the plump, unsporty one-- see below). Usually this, and laughing immoderately over the odd grainy photograph featuring bowl haircuts and flared trousers takes up most of our time, but this year brother #1 (in a series of 3) decided to throw in an Olympic-style decathlon too. Guess who came last and brought home the wooden spoon?
The sun shone for most of the weekend, but the nights were freezing cold, glittering with stars and lit by a big, creamy harvest moon. By the time we all went our separate ways yesterday it really did feel like autumn had arrived.
Hmm. I love autumn. I love the bonfirey, golden-leaved, red-wine-and-apple crumbleness of it all, and I'm looking forward to wearing boots again, and getting back to work (of course I am-- I mean, have you seen my new hero?) But I'm sad about summer ending. I'd just got into the holiday groove, and now the idea of school run, homework and ironing uniforms seems outrageously uncivilised. Which, coming from someone who's just spent the best part of a week sleeping in a tent, is saying something.
7 comments:
Good for you, taking home the spoon. Look at his little face--he desperately needs someone who'll love him and I know your heart is just the boombox to bring some happy rhythm to his life.
In other news, c-c-camping? Dear God. You deserve a medal of valour (says she who likes the great outdoors to stay outdoors).
I was thrilled with my spoon. Given that I am the plump, unsporty one what could be more fitting than winning a kitchen utensil?!
One of the best things about camping, of course, is the ridiculous amount of pleasure you experience when you get back into a real house (even one as untidy as mine.) Yesterday I found myself just standing by my bed and stroking the duvet gratefully...
Unsporty I can just about imagine. At a stretch.
But plump? YOU????????????????
Er... nope, not convinced :o)
Glad you had a good time, anyway.
Fab foto!
What do you mean plump! The rest of the family must be rake thin.
I agree with Kate H. Unsporty yes, but not plump.
So pleased you had a good time though.
Thanks for the therapy, ladies. I come from a large family of gazelles, so the roles are long-established and hard to break out of! (And we did re-discover a photo of 5 of us cousins in our matching holiday Mr Man t-shirts. Brother #1 Mr Strong, babyiest brother Mr Small etc... Me, Mr Greedy...)
(Baggage? What baggage??)
I'm fairly certain you are actually living your life in a Jilly Cooper novel - you just need to tell me that you all slurped on gigantic G&Ts and I'll be completely convinced!
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