16th October 2015

The days are certainly taking on a more autumnal feel now, with darkness creeping in ever earlier, preceded by a noticeable nip in the air. The red grapes have been safely harvested (save for a few late ripeners), and their juice is bubbling away contentedly in my largest tub. I’m anxious about a possible frost, which could jeopardise my plans for the slower-ripening white grapes. Fingers crossed the sugar levels increase before the frost arrives.

The sweetcorn has also been slow to ripen this year, although I’ve managed to pick around 20 cobs that have ‘mostly’ sweetened to a lovely golden hue, rather like Sue and me! The leeks have had their first picking, which is just as well, as it seems I’ve repeated last year’s mistake of planting far too many. I can never bring myself to throw away the extra seedlings, which inevitably means our winter diet will be heavily leek-based. Oh well, they must be doing us good, as we’re still here!

The fennel has now finished, and my Thai green curry will be poorer for its absence. The beetroot, on the other hand, has been going strong for over two months. To keep up with the surplus, I’ve started giving them away, though without Nan, I’ve lost my outlet at the Old Wrinklies’ Sanatorium. Meanwhile, the kohlrabi, turnips, and parsnips are fattening up nicely and should be ready for the kitchen in the coming weeks.

The other day, we had Mia to stay, and during my afternoon walk, I stumbled upon an amazing hedgerow of blackberries. Fortunately, Mia had only used one of the two poop bags I had with me, so the spare one ended up filled with luscious berries. Mia had to hold on until we got back home! This discovery spurred Sue and me into gathering mode. The next morning, I detoured on my cycle ride to Gumley Woods to check the state of the sweet chestnuts. Sadly, my scouting mission resulted in a flurry of disappointed texts to the family, another week or so before we can gather to prick our fingers and fill Tesco bags with the bounty.

The cobnuts, however, were less of a let-down. Sue and I made two forays to the hedge at the back of my allotment, and we now have five large containers of little brown nuts drying on windowsills throughout the house.

I recently drove to Rothwell to dig up a rather large succulent that had outgrown its spot in Charlotte’s garden. I anticipated a tough job, but after a drastic trim and with Suraj and Charlotte helping to lever the plant from its parched, clay bed, the task proved more manageable than expected. Within an hour, I was back in Harborough, digging a hole in the lawn beside the drive. The succulent now resides there, and I’m hopeful it will survive the winter and thrive in its new home.

Despite the disappointment of the Welsh game, I’ve continued to enjoy the rugby on Saturdays. I watch it on the big screen in the lounge with my equally disheartened ex-rugby mates, buoyed by good ale and the occasional indulgence in fast food.

On the 13th, Sue and I ventured to the Blue Boar Inn near Temple Grafton, just a 10-minute drive from Stratford-upon-Avon. We arrived at this popular and picturesque hostelry around 11 am, donned our walking boots, and set off on a circular route through the surrounding countryside, mostly following the Grafton Way. We paused for a picnic lunch on a bench near the charming village of Ardens Grafton, which, amusingly, is close to a hamlet called Little Britain. I drove through it a few days later and, thankfully, emerged unscathed.

Returning to the Inn, we checked in and, after inspecting our small but pleasant room, had a meal in the bar. We struck up a conversation with some locals curious about our origins, then headed into Stratford. That evening, we had tickets for the Arts Theatre and the opening night of ‘Our House’, a musical based on the songs of Madness. Although we could have opted for ‘Hecuba or Henry V ‘ at the RSC, surprisingly, tickets were available, we agreed that something lighter was more our thing. The show was performed in the round, and being in the front row, we were no more than a metre from the actors. It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening, though I must admit, in my younger days, I loathed those songs. Now, they’ve become rather persistent earworms in our dotage! The plot revolves around the main character’s life choices, cleverly linking the outcomes to the board game Monopoly.

The next morning, after breakfast, we drove into Stratford to ‘do the Bard.’ Alongside other tourists, we joined an official guided tour of the town, visiting all the key locations associated with William Shakespeare. Owen, our guide, was excellent, knowledgeable and humorous. The tour lasted over two hours, after which we stopped at the Pen and Parchment for hot chocolate.

We then made our way to the riverbank and boarded one of the little boats that ply up and down the Avon. We were the only passengers, as the afternoon was turning chilly. The 40-minute trip offered splendid views of Stratford’s riverside properties, which, judging by their elevated positions, likely find themselves submerged during winter floods.

We took a break at ‘The Garrick’, the oldest pub in Stratford, for a glass of hot mulled wine to warm our bones. The cosy atmosphere, with its low beams and crackling fire, was the perfect antidote to the autumn chill, and the mulled wine hit the spot beautifully.

We spent the rest of the afternoon leisurely wandering around Stratford, ending with a visit to Shakespeare’s birthplace. Late on a chilly afternoon turned out to be an ideal time to go, as most of the Japanese and American tourists had already departed. This meant we could take our time exploring, reading the information boards, and fully appreciating the exhibits without feeling rushed.

After our evening meal back at the Blue Boar, we returned to town to watch ‘Suffragette’ at Stratford’s only cinema. The other screen was showing ‘The Martian’ and drawing a much larger crowd, but our smaller, more refined audience had the upper hand in sophistication, strolling in with glasses of wine from the bar next door. So thespian! “Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature if it be well used; exclaim no more against it.”

The following morning, after breakfast and checking out, we headed back into town to visit Anne Hathaway’s Cottage. Arriving at an empty car park, we thought we’d beaten the crowds. However, upon entering, we discovered that a busload of 60 Americans had already made themselves at home. Undeterred, we decided to linger in the peaceful orchards and gardens while the Yankee Doodle Dandies explored the Cottage. Once they’d cleared out, we had the building and the charming Tudor actors, all to ourselves. A delightful place, full of character, and well worth the visit.

Our next stop was Harvard House in the heart of Stratford. Though not directly connected to William Shakespeare, it’s a beautifully preserved example of an original Tudor house and is well worth a visit. Following that, we made our way to Hall’s Croft, the home of William’s daughter, Susanna, and her husband, Dr John Hall. This, too, was a fascinating original house, offering a glimpse into the life of the Shakespeare family.

From there, we drove out of town to Mary Arden’s Farm, the childhood home of Shakespeare’s mother. In hindsight, we should have set aside an entire day for this visit. The farm is brimming with activity, with various Tudor demonstrations running throughout the day. We watched the blacksmith forge nails and then observed the ‘Palmer’ household (yes, really) enjoying their lunch in the farmhouse.

After that, we spent time chatting with the shepherd and his remarkably tame ram, explored the fields and orchards, and even solved the hay-bale maze. Our visit concluded with a superb falconry display, which we were encouraged to participate in. Sadly, with the afternoon slipping away, it was time to start our journey home. Reluctantly, we made our way back to the car park, already wishing we’d had more time to soak it all in.

I had considered stopping at Draycote Reservoir on the way back, but as we neared our destination, the rain set in. We decided to press on home, arriving just in time to enjoy a well-earned fish and chip supper.