Category: writing

The shift from summer to autumn seems to happen more suddenly than with any other seasonal switch. It’s been accelerated this year, perhaps, by our week in Northumberland — the return to work suddenly had me waking up in the dark, which is always one of the major signifiers of the change. The light has a new lambency, the air a strange foggy crispness. Aldi, charmingly, has both Halloween and Oktoberfest goodies in the middle aisle.

Rejoice! It’s decorative gourd season, which gives me the excuse to bring this old banger out from the attic.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

We are in the north, at the top of a hill accessible only by a track decorated with stern warning signs to turn back. Our base for the week is a clean, neat cottage, sturdy of wall and firmly planted. The borderlands have called again and we have answered. What that means for next week’s communications is anyone’s guess. For now, listening to the hiss and click of rain while pecking away at the keyboard, I’m happy to just be in the moment and watch the clouds cradle the hills.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

I had an unexpected day away from work this week—a hospital appointment mid-morning was immediately followed by a call from my manager standing me down for the rest of the shift. I felt guilty about it for all of five seconds, then leant in and made the most of the free time.

That is to say, I did very little, instead allowing my brain to spin down from its usual frantic whirl. Once that happened, my focus changed completely. New ideas, thoughts and concepts immediately started to appear. I could put some time into a project I had slightly neglected. I felt calm, collected, in control. It was, frankly, wonderful.

There should be an allowance above and beyond sick days. Whether you call it a mental health break, or simply a me day. A break from the norm, with the understanding that you step away from all your responsibilities, ignore the chores, put down the phone and just let it be. I can advocate the benefits very strongly.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

The Autumn Switch has finally been flipped. Sweet, blessed rain has anointed the garden, and a late flush of colour and dewy freshness is our reward. A lot of the Crown Prince squashes have fallen off the vine—it seems C was a little too enthusiastic at removing leaves. Oh well, lesson learned for next time and we’ll still have a few for cool-weather soups and stews. The apple tree is slowly being pruned back as it gives up the last of its fruits. One final harvest before we take it up completely. The bed C’s created around it needs a different kind of focus. Tempting to put an espalier tree along the fence, though. Colour, structure and delicious apples? Seems like a winning combo to me.

We can’t rest on our laurels yet. C has a schedule of work drawn up to put us in good stead for the winter—trugs to clear for winter veg, plants to move or take out completely as we get a handle on where the light falls through the day. But we’re both looking forward to the tasks ahead, and the prospect of sitting out at the end of a busy session with a fire-pit crackling, drinks in hand is very appealing.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

Apologies to anyone who received a very early draft of today’s Chapter in the emails earlier this week. I had one of those fat-fingered moments, pressing Publish on the WordPress dashboard instead of Save. So, you’ve had some spoilers, obviously, but I hope not enough to ruin the enjoyment of this week’s soaraway Saturday Swipe.

Please, don’t all rush in and tell me you prefer it without my contextual bloviations. That would be heartbreaking.

This week—fancy bread, insights from the Bake Off Tent and a call to action on behalf of Fantagraphics. Who are nothing to do with the fizzy drink.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

I was getting into one of those slightly boozy text arguments with a pal, which are about nothing but generate bruises and ill will if you let them. Stupid stuff, growls and pokes which often come from misunderstandings or lack of clarity. I spat out a comment I really didn’t mean. Thinking on it ten minutes later, I realised it was nasty and unearned.

When I picked up my phone to try and minimise the damage, I saw the message hadn’t sent—a passing network error. I erased it, crafted a more reasoned reply, and the evening was back on track.

It’s easy to snap at folks, especially those you love, out of pride or a momentary burst of unexplainable spite. It’s never worth it. The great thing about chatting over text is that you can walk away, think, then say what you mean in the way that you mean it. The universe did me a favour yesterday. I’ll take that lesson with me.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

A tweak to my working hours for the foreseeable future means a 5am alarm call, 6am report for duty. Which sounds horrific. But I finish at 2pm, giving a nice fat chunk of the day in daylight, free as a bird to do whatever I choose–or more realistically, chores. Honestly, this is a trade-off I’m very happy with. The commute is easier, I’m able to get in and out of shops more quickly and efficiently. Most importantly, it’s valuable time I can spend with C, in the garden, with a drink.

Postman’s hours ain’t so bad when you look into it.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.

Rain. Finally. Thank all the heavens. The introduction of a hosepipe ban, one focussed cruelly on a single Caversham postcode—ours—usually heralds wetter weather. But the grumbles of thunder and dramatic skyscapes didn’t seem to give out like they promised. Until Thursday, when over the course of a half hour during drinks-o’clock the lights dimmed and the atmosphere thickened to the texture of a damp sponge. The deluge, when it came, was powerful enough to bounce off the stones.

Now, everything feels fresh and green again. There’s a mackerel sky up there this morning, and the light is limpid and gold. Coming off a week when I deliberately did very little to reset my poor brain, the rain felt like a signal and a kind of blessing. Things can and will be crappy, but nothing lasts forever. Patience and fortitude will finally bring the rain to your garden.

Wherever you are, whenever you are, however you are, welcome to The Swipe.