Fruits of the Fields

Up again at 7am for the second time in two days, though not woken gently with a cup of tea this time. It was strange being out and about well before 9am, people rushing to work, schoolchildren "with shining morning face, creeping like a snail unwillingly to school". The towns I drove through seemed fresh, newly cleansed, and Waitrose where I briefly stopped was near empty, a complete joy. I got a free cup of latte with my few pieces of shopping, and as I was still early I sat in my car and drank it. Lovely. Ready now to face the day. It was my first CAB training session, and a complete eye-opener. It was a baptism of fire, but though it was tough, and not just by my reckoning, it made me more determined and sure that this is what I want to do. I've been so lucky in my life, so privileged, and have rarely been knocked flat to the ground. Other people's lives are not so agreeable, and they deserve respect and help if they ask for it. I'm daunted by the sheer amount of information that needs to be absorbed, not the answers themselves but the knowlledge of where to go to look for them. I'm sure I'll get there. Everyone else seems to have done.

I came home via Ruth's and we went for a walk through her local fields. As everywhere else, the blackberries are non-existent. It may be early days, but it's not looking good. At the weekend I got a good haul from the wild plum trees at the bottom of my garden, and they've been cooked and frozen ready to go on my breakfast oats when blueberries and nectarines have gone from the shelves. Amazingly I still have some blackberries left over from last year. But the next crop will be sloes, which are already looking fat, and I'm planning on making a good few litres of sloe gin to keep me and mine warm through the winter. I might get myself a little hip flask to make bridge go with a swing.