Dear Diary,

We're under a high at the, not on a high, though being where we are, it does help to get on one, (a high) if you see what I mean. The barometric high pressure, (not to get confused with any other kind) means we have had two bright crispy days.  Nightfall delivered a ground frost giving us a crispy day with just that extra bit of wintry nip. If we had not had to turn the clocks back by an hour, we would get more time in the day to enjoy this weather, notwithstanding, I was up early this morning when it was still quite dark. I was therefore, able to enjoy all the daylight from when it dawned to when night drew in.

Yay! I got most of the laundry damp-dry over the two good bright days. It will keep the fuel costs down and reduce the amount of moisture circulating in the house while it finishes drying. The things that please us now,(getting washing dried without the use of utility fuel) we would never have dreamt of pleasing us just a decade ago. It's a sign of the times.

As there is a recycling collection this week, I rolled the bin up to the border of bushy perennials , which, to coin a phrase in today's economic parlance, definitely needed a haircut; clearly, a short back and sides. Metaphorically I pushed up my sleeves and started lopping off branches. After 7/8 of the work was completed, the bin was very full.  I briefly held onto my aching back, then indulged in some gentle seventh innings stretches. That did the trick and I felt re-energised. If we get more gardening weather, I'll trim back the one eighth of remaining bush life in time for the next garden waste recycling collection.  The Dahlias still look quite colourful, but, I can see from the leaves that the frost is getting to them. I wonder if I should pull them up or let the Dahlias die off.

The border is definitely looking sadly denuded. Even so, the perennials did need tidying up. The weeds that were hidden by the overgrown bushes are now totally visible. They have had a field day, growing stealthily and prolifically, many beyond my reach, and out of my sight.  8|  Dear diary, it seems I shall have to summon up the energy to weed them out. 

We went for a leisurely stroll Sunday afternoon. The orchestrated tinkling sound we heard was Oyster Catchers lifting and turning stones and pebbles with their distinctive beaks on the banks of the river; it is their way of foraging for food. A sparrow was free-loading, following behind, gaining the benefit of the other birds' feeding habits. 

Down at the sea shore, there were loads of foot tread marks, all overlapping and in one corner of the beach. It must have been the main viewing point of the community bonfire and fireworks display on the 5th November. I had to screw up my eyes because the sun was very bright and low. It was sod's law my sunglasses were sitting in the car parked back at home.