The year is just flashing by, the trees are now red and gold, the hedges are all cut back and the farms have harvested all the summer crops, replacing them with grass or winter wheat.

The weather has finally turned and it’s going to be cold enough soon to put the shorts away and wear more layers of varying waterproofness for the walks with the doglets.

Although, bizarrely, the wildflower area is doing fantastically.

It’s dark by 630 here now and it’ll soon be time for the first log fire of the year.

I left work over six months ago now and haven’t missed it for a single second, I’ve stayed in touch with all my people and have helped them where possible – including pointing out the pathway to a new job for more than one of them.

All of my outside jobs for the year are complete and I’m now in the process of painting the workshop floor before it gets too grim, so that furniture can be taken in for winter, cushions put in the loft and space made for things like the barbecue that live outside all spring and summer before going into steel hibernation until next year.

Obviously, you can’t paint floors without help, in this case it was Cairo .

But I’ve decided that I’m going to preserve one of her prints for the life of the floor and I’ll post the finished article at some point, but Milo is determined that he wants to get in on the action.

The doglets like the change in the weather as it gives them even more time to snuggle up and snore softly while they trap me on the sofa for hours at a time.

Sometime next week, I’ll decant 50 litres of cider into barrels and store it for another week or so before it’s ready for drinking.

And I’ll take some of that cider to the farm shop who were grateful for the gift of loads of apples – grateful enough for free apple pies for a while anyway.

They’re keen to see how it tastes as they’ve never considered making it.

I’ve helped a neighbour understand the new internet and phone system that BT have just dumped on him and have his assurances that if I need help with anything practical, he’ll be there.

I have new friends and their dog coming here at the end of the month and an old friend offering to come and cut a load of trees back in return for – well.

Nothing.

Just because he’s a friend.

On Tuesday, I’m meeting the local mayor and the High Sheriff of Shropshire at a local school when she presents to the kids.

And.

On Thursday, I’m meeting a cast of people.

My pensions advisor- now a friend, I’ve got some interesting questions for him as well as some beers.

One of the Feral Ponies ( let’s call him my Nephew, there’s a story there, not least because his parents are Nigerian, but that’s for another time ) – his drama at work is nearly over, he’s been treated worse than I’ve seen for many, many years but he’s come through unscathed, I don’t think his bosses will.

At least one of the other Ponies – as a surprise to my Nephew.

And The Smurf after 4pm.

There’s no plans for the day, I’m staying in the club as usual, my hatred for tourists is undiminished and I’ll be back mid-morning on Friday to walk the doglets.

Who have a new sitter.

She’s fantastic and the doglets have taken to her immediately, which was useful this week as I had to go to a funeral 120 miles away.

But it all worked and I’ve made sure, by the simple expedient of paying her a decent bonus on top of her agreed fee, that she can help again if needed.

So, as usual when I write this drivel, I’m sat in the kitchen with music, one of the dogs and beer. The weather is too grim to see the hills, but I know they’re there and, the view in between is pretty good too.

I don’t know what the next few weeks will bring apart from the things I’ve listed, but for a boy from a council flat in Hackney, I have nothing at all to complain about.

Nothing.