Slimming

The new Philip Pullman book is here, in all its gold-tinged glory. I have been sighing and running my fingers over its beauteousness. I shall read it to the younger urchins just as soon as we have finished our current read, Cogheart by Peter Bunzl. The series has the most wonderful covers, and they are cleverly continued inside the cover, as if viewed from behind.

The dog is on a diet. Before the summer holidays he used to walk with his cocker spaniel friend every single morning. She would chase him all the way along, and wrestle with him and chase him again and if he ever tried to sit down for a rest she'd run faster and faster circles around him, jumping over him as she shot past, until he felt obliged to get back up again and join in. She was utterly unrelenting, in the manner of a particularly strict personal trainer, and looking back it was a hard full-body workout. He weighed in at 9.9kg. Then the summer holidays came and schedules changed and we no longer walk with her. A mere ten weeks later I was horrified to discover that he weighed 12 kg. That's an extra two kilos, 20 percent of his body weight. Like a person going from 10 stone to 12 stone in under three months. And the only difference has been the morning walk. We still do the same route, but no cocker spaniel chasing us down.

Needless to say he is on a diet. And I need to make the time to walk with his more energetic friends again, his whippet chum and his cockapoo mucker, as well as his personal trainer. It occurs to me I need something similar. Someone to force me into running about the place. Although right now I'm a bit snowed under with work so it will have to wait a while... I'll add it to my to-do list.

There are olives in the garden, but they're a bit on the small side - not much flesh (unlike me and Bert) so I'm not really inspired to do much with them. And I don't know how to tell if they're ripe. I suspect they're not, now that the chilly autumn mornings are here. The black tomatoes are still all hanging on the vine, not really ripening in any visible way either. We have mountains of windfalls, from the garden and from an aquaintance in Wales. I am trying to use them before the rot sets in, but I need to be fast. I am making ALL of the apple recipes.

The biggest boy scored a hat-trick at football today. A rare occurrence as he is a defender. I fear I have banged on about it too long and I have been declared embarrassing. Sigh. ('Remind me how many goals it was today again?' 'Three you say, and what do they call that?') Yes, I know, I know, I'll shut up now.

Now that the autumn term is well and truly under way there seem to be a hundred and one things to attend. Football, cross country, cricket (yes! it's indoors), parents' information evenings, helping out at open days, oh the list is endless. I am doubting my grammar now. Seems or seem? Sam would know, but she can't comment any more. I fear there is a blog glitch. I would ask if anyone else is unable to comment, but, you know... Anyway, I hope all is well out there, and the madness is held at bay. As with anything remotely stressful I am as ever adopting the head in sand approach. Except when it comes to dog chub, then I am ON IT.