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I can really feel the autumn setting in. The light has changed and the sun has dropped lower in the sky. This weekend I gathered the last of the damsons that had fallen from the tree. I made the kids gather bags of Bramley apples to be added to the sausages so they can eat them and we can herald their contribution to the sausages arrival on the plate. I harvested a bucket of pears. I spent the whole day, de-stoning damsons, peeling and coring apples, slicing pears. I made jars of apple, damson and cinnamon compote and pear, apple, nutmeg and cinnamon compote. The kitchen smelt divine. It was serene until the syrupy, gloopy, fruit mixture started to bubble and toil. It seemed in a heartbeat, I went from rich, fruity flavours pervading my kitchen; to scorching hot, blistering, fruit bubbles firing bullets at me from the pan. My white cotton vest will not recover and my biceps are burnt with rosy, damson, red hot, hisses

I wish I could say I was getting ready for winter; but I know that it tastes so good, that we’ll be lucky if it makes past the end of September without the compote being wholly consumed.

The end of the tour in Afghanistan is nigh, and I can tell from his correspondence, that we are both at the end of our tether, and ready for it to be over. The truth is though you never know when it’s over until it’s over. It’s never over until they cross the threshold. Then you can breathe a sigh of relief. Even separated, I have found keeping the home fire’s burning very tough indeed. I don’t want Hagar to be killed. I truly don’t know what else I want other than my freedom and independence – my right to think my own thoughts without guilt. I spent many years feeling guilty that I didn’t fit in. I tried to wear the right wife shoes but they nipped at my conscience and blistered my soul. However, I do know I don’t want Hagar to be killed in action. Tick, tock, time passes and I continue to hold my breath until he is home.

Six weeks is perfect for me – three weeks up and three weeks down. It’s very manageable and I can handle the kids and whatever obstacles get thrown my way. Anything longer just hurts because things build up and I slowly but surely, gradually seep out of control. The longer the away-ness the greater the wear and tear and I age, slightly harder and tougher, inside.

I have a wedding coming up and I am a bridesmaid. I have been asked to give a speech, plus I need to wear a dressy frock and tape my wobbly bits in. I have dyed my hair many colours, like Joseph’s Technicolour Dream Coat, and so in preparation I have been staying in, making compote, not drinking (ahem – just a wee dram here and there) and thinking about the importance of saving the South China Tiger from extinction. What is our global obligation to this big ancient cat? [Random! I know but I am thinking about tigers a lot at the moment.]

My life is full of contradictions. I am pacifist, who supports at a husband at war. I am thinking about saving the South China Tiger from extinction and yesterday, I sent 6 piggies to slaughter.

Bye, bye piggies!! They had a wonderful life and they were the happiest of grunty, stinky piggies. I am very much looking forward to eating them and having a freezer full of organic pork over the winter. I have spent the last 10 days talking about how they will be turned into sausages to the children. The Menace was a bit upset last night for about five minutes and she lamented the loss of the piggies with big, fat, crocodile tears. I was ready for them to go, but, at the same time, I feel a bit empty now that land is clear and they are no longer there. *SiGH* Life is full of contradictions as I push-me-pull-me through.