Even Hull Fair can’t banish the autumn blues this year
THE GOOD LIFE
USUALLY, I enjoy autumn with its piles of russet red leaves, frantic squirrels and that promise of winter. However, this year I am not so keen. Maybe it is because I’ve not had a chance to top up my vitamin D or perhaps it is because I don’t feel I’ve had a break.
Apart from not having the disposable income (like so many people this year), there are so many problems with travel these days that just a trip to Cleethorpes reminds me of a trip to the Himalayas.
Plus, weather-wise I’m never sure whether to wear a scarf or a sun hat. What happened to crisp autumn days?
Usually, I go for long walks with the dogs, prepare my pumpkins, firework-proof my home and look forward to Hull Fair, but somehow, I just can’t seem to get my act together this year.
Recently, my walks are plagued with rain, puddles, and slugs, which appear everywhere.
Even the dogs look miserable and poor Skye (who has just turned 15) now needs to wear a warm dog jacket to stop her shivering.
Shuffling through fallen leaves, which have been falling since August, usually leaves me with soggy socks and slugs that would be better suited to a horror movie. Black slugs I understand, but white ones with orange bellies? Urgh!
As for Halloween. Apparently, we skipped it and went straight to Christmas. I shall probably get a pumpkin, but I don’t see myself trick or treating nor handing out sweets to random children. It just hasn’t got the same vibe as it used to.
Firework night is always a problem. Our evening is usually spent locked in a room, curtains closed and with loud music on, comforting our rescue dog who appears to think she is in a war zone – I am sure she would wear a body armour if she could.
We do sometimes have fireworks ourselves, but I have found myself looking at the tiny boxes with price tags to rival a Harrods spending frenzy and simply walking on. Would I set fire to a £50 note? To be honest, no. As a child, I loved Hull Fair with its shiny lights and smell of Carver’s patties.
As a parent, I loved taking my children to sit on expensive rides, watching their faces light up and trying to persuade my son not to stand up on the log flume. He always wanted to go on it but then changed his mind before we got to the water.
We left with numerous (if not disfigured) soft toys, bags of candy floss and brandy snap, which I don’t even like but bought as part of the traditional visit.
This year, I’ll confess, the thought of moving down Walton Street with a thousand other people fills me with impending doom.
All that is left of my battered autumn is the approach of Christmas, which seems to be approaching too fast but will hopefully light up my dark nights, banish the autumn blues and prepare me for next year.