Walking in the park. I'm continuing to enjoy the seasonal changes, though that unmistakable and rather wonderful smell of autumn is still absent. (It probably needs colder temperatures and a hint of woodsmoke in the air.)
We're lucky to have this public park on our doorstep. There's a walled garden, museum, lakes and a monthly farmers market. The site of the cottage where one Captain James Cook was born can be found here, too. (Yep, arguably the world's greatest ever explorer is a fellow Smoggie).
Persuading one of the park's many resident squirrels to pose for the camera. It did involve a bit of lurking behind a tree (me, not the squirrel). Fortunately, there was no-one around to wonder what on earth I was up to.
Bringing some autumnal colour indoors. I associate chrysanthemums with my mother who was always given a bunch of those huge standard bronze coloured ones for her birthday. They're not so readily available these days but I picked up this potted plant (I think it's a Korean 'mum) in Sainsburys.
Returning to basics with a spot of simple baking. I don't venture much into the world of patisserie these days (the mister has a reduced appetite and my jeans are far too snug). There's the weekly batch of chocolate chip cookies to coincide with a visit from the Boy or the littlest or both, supplemented mid week with something similarly quick and easy, like these buttercream topped buns, or Granny cakes, as the littlest calls them. Just enough to keep my hand in.
Replacing a fatsia japonica which had given up the ghost. The original plant had lived outside in a pot next to the kitchen door for years, seemingly quite content. Until this summer, when the pot became inexplicably waterlogged, the leaves turned yellow before dropping off, leaving a soggy stump. I've no idea what the problem was but clearly it was time to start again with a shiny new plant.
Meeting my cousin for lunch. She'd been given an early Christmas present and brought it with her.
The coffee shop (in neighbouring North Yorkshire) was dog friendly (one Bedlington, one Cockapoo and two Skye terriers were already enjoying the facilities) and the pup was very well behaved. Quiet as a mouse, actually, and almost the same size. Best not mention the outing to Boo who is very partial to a toasted teacake.
Stocking up with a variety of Spring bulbs for the pots in the back garden. Who knows, maybe this will be the year I actually get round to planting them.
Reading. Of course. Book number 55 this year was the debut novel from the creator of the TV series, The Killing.
Set largely in Copenhagen, this is a crime thriller/police procedural about a murderer with a unique calling card. It's a hefty read but the pace is maintained throughout, with strong characters, great atmosphere and a complex storyline that kept me guessing right to the end. But subtlety isn't one of our killer's strong points and the murder scenes are gruesome, though not gratuitously so. If you like your crime fiction to be Scandi and noir, then this is probably one for you. If you've a sensitive stomach, best leave it on the shelf.