Where the wild pumpkins grow

I did get older but I didn’t lose my hair. Of course, it WAS many years ago…what the hell! I’m the age that Paul McCartney sang about. I’m 64 and I don’t care. And not only don’t I care, but I actually don’t feel any different to when I was 63…though that was just yesterday. But, moving away from pop song lyrics…

It was a beautiful morning for my 64th birthday complete with digital messages of birthday tidings from Fi then Denise then Dawn, Lauren and Bob and, unbelievably, Uncle Ronnie. Meanwhile, the sky was blue, horizon to horizon, with the temperature firmly settled in single figures. And no rain. It was perfectly crisp and sparkly. And autumnal.

I went to the gym but I didn’t go into Farnham. I returned home straight afterwards, following a good hour of working out.

Back at home I had a coffee, wrote my blog post for yesterday then set about doing some washing and cutting up some cardboard boxes now that the recycling allows some extra space in the Otto bin. These were from our wine delivery.

I was about to take the girls to the park when an Amazon delivery turned up. It was the heater for Mirinda’s greenhouse and yet more cardboard to be cut up. I set it aside then took the girls to the park. As we climbed up a slight rolling hill, something caught my eye as it sat in the crook of a tree.

How come, every Halloween, Farnham is littered with carved up pumpkins for weeks afterwards? They hang around by front doors and in driveways. They are even in the trees. I always think it’s a terrible waste of food but why they then stay and gradually rot is very mysterious.

It’s a pumpkin tree, ma!

I did read on Twitter that, perhaps people are putting them out to feed the Little Creatures of the Woods, something I’m not entirely convinced of. What animals eat pumpkin? I mean apart from pigs, something my father always said was the only thing they were good for – the pumpkins not the pigs.

Back at home, I unpacked and organised Mirinda’s new heater so it would turn on whenever the temperature dropped below seven degrees. I figured I’d have to wait a bit to see it in action given the ambient temperature in the greenhouse was still up at 12.

I checked the greenhouse at 17:30 but the temperature was still only 9 degrees.

Being my birthday, I had a few glasses of wine, a beer and some pistachio liquor. Life was beautiful…even the orchestra was beautiful.

When I went to bed, the temperature in the greenhouse was seven degrees and the heater was yet to turn on.

Vera, Chuck and Dave did not put in an appearance.

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