Learner driver: PLEASE pass!

I`m a nosy parker at the best of times. But being two floors up, I have access to a busy view of town.... my eyes often out on stalks; my mind racing about the scenes playing out below.

Most of the drama surrounds a nearby driving test centre. I see learners parking, looking under the bonnet with their instructor for final checks, and going off to meet their maker. Well...examiner.

Sometimes, I see them returning--and if I do, I have to wait until I know whether they've passed or failed. It can take a while. There's stuff to sign. So all I have to go on, is body language. Wringing of hands...or relaxing of shoulders?

It happened just now. A lad came back with the examiner, and I could see quite an animated conversation going on, before the official handed him some paperwork, got out, and walked back to base. The lad sat there, motionless. Five minutes later, he got out of the car and someone, his Dad, probably, approached him from the other side of the street. They hugged. Still wasn't sure. Then the lad peeled the L plates off the car..they both got in...lad at the wheel...and drove off; smiling.


It's two years since youngest daughter Alice passed her test, just five months after her 17th birthday.I remember the mix of pride and relief. No more frozen tweets from dark winter car parks outside rehearsals, or parking tactfully round the corner from late night parties. Sure, you feel anxious for a while. But only months after that, I found myself in the passenger seat with 'baby driver' (by then working as an au pair...) as she negotiated icy hairpin bends through the mountains to take me to lunch and a spa treatment at a Swiss ski resort. And later drove us both, in her own car, to Normandy; motorways, car ferry--no worries.

I`m sure my parents never relaxed.They probably thought they'd be driving me home from parties into their dotage...as my first and second driving tests came and went. Then the third. (Nobody could think of anything reassuring to say to me by this stage. They all looked a bit embarrassed. I think they'd all given up). Then the fourth. (It's OK, I passed fourth time.) I hugged the examiner, then burst into tears. I still had panda, mascara smeared eyes when I got home--and no mobile to call mum in those days--so she took one look at me and put the kettle on ; convinced I'd failed, and was heading for driving test number five.

Yeh, the M25 is still a bitch, and punctures usually only happen in horizontal rain, but there are lots of little things that can make driving pleasurable. First exits on massive roundabouts, for example. Always a joy.

Driving gives you real freedom to go anywhere, any time. Like Aberdovey on a sunny Sunday. Or on a wet Wednesday, really.You can head out on late night chocolate mercy dashes. And sing whatever you choose, at the top of your voice, with nobody complaining. So--well done to anyone in the street below, passing their test today. But if you're the one with the slumped shoulders and the wrong kind of paperwork from the examiner, don't worry. It'll be your turn to peel the plates off soon.

Postcard to the seaside

Dear Aberdovey,

I`m sending you this from Shrewsbury.

Much as I love you, I did, during my drizzly drive to see you yesterday, consider turning back. Or hopping out at the market in Machynlleth and not bothering with the beach.

But I persevered, knowing that I had waterproofs, walking boots and wellies in the car. Braced for `bracing`; I`d take you as I found you.

Just a few minutes and one meander more, I got that first, breathtaking glimpse of the estuary....and the sun was glinting on the water. A few more miles and I was driving slowly through your main street; crowds to the left of me; ice creams to the right. I was late on parade.

As someone used to enjoying your empty expanse of sand in icy midwinter; in gales, and best of all, in term time, I wondered whether I`d be walking, or weaving through windbreaks. The first stretch was filling up with families setting up base camp, clambering out of clothes, grabbing sneaky sausage rolls meant `for later`.

I kicked off my shoes and headed towards the water, gazing out at distant dinghies with Dairylea sails and cocktail stick masts. Past `Oi! Emma!`, and `Come on, Caspaahh!` and `Awww CHLO-WEeeeee....!` screaming at the sea as it touched their toes. On and on, to where the sand was smooth--just little sticky gulls`marks , a few tiny toddler prints, and deep, paw-shaped dents; dogs desperate to dash after sticks in the water ; shaking salty droplets over owners on the shore.

I looked back at the now tiny terrace of houses along the sea front; a higgledy cake-stand of sweet, fondant fancies,vying for selection. Way behind them, over the hills, huge, still uncertain clouds in Mr Whippy shaped swirls kept watch. I turned my back on them and walked towards the blue, the August sun hot and steady now, but cooled by a breeze brisk enough to keep kites aloft and the tiny sails proudly puffed.

Wiggling myself into a soft, sandy dip by the dunes I could watch families from a distance; playing, squabbling; screams and laughter muted by the whooshing whitenoise of sea and wind; each family a neat frame of film through my shades, all stars in a state of the art silent movie. I lay back; drifting, dozing.........until the rumble, then roar of a fighter jet pierced through my slumber and forced me to open my sun-blind eyes...metal scything through the blue-silk sky like a haberdasher`s blade.....its deafening dominance tempered by its tilt--incongruously coy.

It vanished; replaced by the soft whoosh of waves and wind again,willing me to be lulled back into my seaside snooze.

But that was my 4.30 alarm call. I`m wide awake enough to know that my ticket`s expired. I scramble to my feet and stumble back up the beach, fumbling in my pockets for what I wish were the keys to a seafront home of my own, not a baking hot car. Driving, I muse over how much fun it must be for locals to reclaim their sand, their sea and their silence .....once Caspahhh and Chlo-WEEee have headed home for their tea.

So that`s it. The end of my postcard from landlocked Shrewsbury to Aberdovey. Just to say thanks for a great day out. Loads of love; wish I was there, etc. And if it`s ok with you, I probably will be again, quite soon. Save me a fondant fancy, eh?

Was:snappy.Now:happy.

Instead of a blog today, I`m leaving you with some pics...by way of a kind of `test card`. Remember those? I used to work with someone (hello Andrew...) who was an expert in their different guises. And the music they played. Don`t ask me why.

Anyway...I`m really feeling the sandwich generation thing this week...and as the filling, I`ve probably spread myself far too thinly. That means that today, I`m a little bit knackered, a bit grumpy, and snappy (step away now...) It`s not helped by having some really crap recollections of stuff kicking off in November a couple of years ago...stuff I walked away from but which still resurfaces sometimes.

But if things get me down, I`m now lucky enough to be able to jump in the car and head...anywhere. And today I thought I`d keep my snappiness to myself, and hit the beach. Aberdovey is one of my favourite places on the planet...especially on cold, bright, winter days when there are just six people and me on the beach. And a couple of ridiculously happy, lollopy, splashy dogs...hilarious to watch. I walked the length of the sandy beach and back, then did it over again, collected some shells, gazed out to sea, paddled in my red wellies,and then had a hot cup of coffee and a slab of cake, and headed home. Life is good. And sometimes a Monday like this will kick me up the backside and remind me of that. Hope yours was happy too xx

You said..

Geoff. Lamb ‏@Onceatenor15h

@janemcintyre12 thanks to ' Yours grumpily' Monday was better. We of a certain age have baggage and it does resurface. Kick it to the kerb!

Dave Rhodes ‏@rockyrds25 Nov

@janemcintyre12 would you say your blog was an F, C, PM5544 or ETP1?

Alistair Gordon ‏@AlistairGordon125 Nov

@janemcintyre12 Great photos! Lovely place!

Love_Life_Live ‏@SmileLaugh_More Protected Tweets25 Nov

My kinda girl RT @janemcintyre12: Was:snappy. Now: happy. http://lovemymondays.blogspot.com/2013/11/yours-grumpily.html?spref=tw …

Fiona Wright ‏@Fi_Wright25 Nov

@janemcintyre12 it's so beautiful there. Especially in the 'off' season. :)

ferndell-b&b ‏@fern_dell25 Nov

@janemcintyre12 love love love Aberdovey but lets not tell too many people

Fridge magnets. Really?

Well OK.

It`s about fridge magnets.

Sort of.

I used to turn my nose up at them. But then....they started arriving on the fridge door...joined by various other mementoes. Some of which have been there a good long time.

Am I the only one? (Help me out here......) It`s just that some little scraps of paper make me smile.So I stick them up on the door...along with the magnets. And considering the number of times I`m in and out of the fridge every day (shut up...)....you can see why I`m generally...a very smiley person. (And have to do a lot of running....)

So: here`s the challenge. Do you have a more eclectic mix of receipts, recipes, notes, tickets, scraps of paper, pics and er....magnets than this? Or is it just me?

And never mind what`s on the shelves inside....can you (oh hell...) actually tell all you need to know about a person....from their fridge magnets? 

Thanks. Want a cheese sarnie while I`m here? Choc ice? Glass of wine........?



 (PS: Yes OK..there`s a lot about food. Well..it`s a fridge, goddamit. Cards and pics from eateries in New York,Greenwich and Shrewsbury. Stuff about losing weight next to a flyer from the fabulous Julia at Toot Sweets chocolates...... mmmmm. Magnets from Aberdovey and the Shard and from eldest daughter extolling the virtues of bad parenting. Poster about Brighton Rock, starring same, eldest daughter. OK and Dame Helen Mirren. Flyer from the fantastic Get Your Wigle On drama group for Annie....youngest daughter in it. Tickets to Manchester Airport (was off to Rome),the Rome Metro and the night boat to Normandy .Pics of Juliet and Alice now and then.A flyer about the Big Busk ((yep; still...because it was all just so brilliant )), the flower card from one of the best newsreaders in the BBC on the day I left ((he`s so sweet))....a pass to BBC TV centre to be an extra in a movie there...oh...and a recipe for a coffee mousse, not yet made).

It`s just me, isn`t it...?

Happy Monday :)

Ginger&Mora ‏@GingerandMora4h

@janemcintyre12 I agree a fridge can tell a lot about you... ;-) pic.twitter.com/oewzB5OiQD

Deborah ‏@Debs__224h

@janemcintyre12 my fridge is similarly decorated ! Lots of magnets , tickets , photos, memories of holidays, days out & happy things :)

David Wright ‏@Stan_Din4h

@janemcintyre12 There you go. What does that tell you? Apart from the fact that we drink too much beer? pic.twitter.com/dx5XkOjsNA

Summer? It`s a wrap.

The train to Manchester on Thursday was baking. I was glad to be wearing a summer skirt and T shirt. The next day, it was lashing it down on the city streets, and I was freezing on a film set. Like all the extras, I ended up borrowing a waterproof jacket and plastic poncho from the lovely wardrobe ladies. Then, late at night, I shivered all the way back to Shrewsbury.

While there might still be some gorgeous, sunny days ahead; autumn`s in the air. I wrote part of this a year ago, after a rotten summer, when we were sharpening our pencils, flogging frocks and crocs, and eyeing up supermarket stewpacks.

This year we`ve had some sizzlers. I reckon it`s easier to face the chilly weather ahead when you can still see strap marks on a fading tan.

So here are those autumn thoughts. Not least because I seem to have nearly a thousand more followers on Twitter than I did this time last year. If you`re one of them...thanks. Slide over here for some apple crumble and custard: 

I woke up today to a tweet from chef and food writer Sabrina (@SabrinaGhayour), about  how much she loves September, and the autumn `mists and mellow fruitfulness` so beloved of Keats. She even copied Ode to Autumn in her message,a poem I used to know off by heart.

Yes, it`s beautiful to feel the sun on your face, relax in your garden and run free in bare feet. But in recent days, I`ve started looking longingly at my boots again : high black suede; shiny conker brown; little ankle boots with tip tap `look at me` heels. 

Out shopping, I found myself stroking a charcoal grey angora jumper and wriggling my fingers into the tips of soft tan leather gloves. I`m longing for those Aberdovey days when I can pretend the beach is mine during a brisk walk or a bracing run against the breeze. Only after a pause for hot chocolate in a cafe overlooking the sea will I start my lazy meander over the Welsh hills to home.

Much as I love throwing open every door and window at home in the summer, months later, I still get a thrill out of battening down the hatches with a gale lashing against the glass, knowing there`s a casserole cooking and a basket of logs for the fire. I was born in December and often wonder if it`s the same for all `winter babies`.

We`re not quite there yet, mind. There`ll be apples, pears and damsons to pick, and a little cottage in Normandy to visit where the branches are already heavy with walnuts. So I`m wrapping myself up today in my softest, pinkest pashmina. The colour`s summer fuchsia. The feel is...just a gentle, warm touch of winter. Might just wear it to the beach.

My now *award-winning* Aberdovey blog!

Aberdovey: Cheese on toast and a taste of summer

To be honest, no one was keen on going to the beach. It was freezing, for a start. And between us, we had homework, a hangover, and housework to contend with.

We decided in the end that we could all die, waiting for the weather to change. Sea air would be good for us. And so, twenty minutes later, car crammed with wellies, scarves, shades, gloves and suncream--you never know--we were on our way to Aberdovey--our closest slice of the seaside.

It was sunny and bright when we got there. Chilly. But chilled. This is a classy coastal resort; limbering up for later.

On one side of the car park, there`s the elegant stretch of tall, terraced houses; pastel painted in their Sunday best, linked like a chain of paper dolls. Some offer B and B; others, hot cups of tea, fish and chips, gifts, and postcards.

Hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, they shield from the elements, the jumble of smaller, former fishermen`s cottages behind them. These are prettier in their way, but overshadowed today by the bright sparkle of seafront windows winking back at us; three or four storeys high, all boasting a sea view.

Today, some are still hibernating, snuggling inside for a week or so more. We explored. There was a sale on at Fat Face, and a warm welcome across the road at the brilliant Simba Jones gift and housewares shop.
Round the corner and back on the sea front we settled at a scrubbed wooden table at Y Bwtri Blasus and ordered Welsh cheddar on toast with bacon and onion, and hot coffee...and milkshakes, plus a bag of rocky road to keep us going on our brisk walk along the beach.

The wind whipped around us, but we bowed our heads against it and warmed up as we walked...laughing, talking, gazing out to sea. We took photographs, paddled, screamed with laughter at Alice`s boot-leak, then stood, and looked back at the pastel terraces along the sea front. Mum and two daughters; reminiscing about Balamory.

There`ll be days, not too far away, when Aberdovey`s sunny. Scorching. And noisy. Squealing children; bat on ball; dads roaring;, scoring runs. Happy, happy dogs, bounding along the beach; splashing in the sea, shaking salty droplets over everyone. But today, Aberdovey`s biding its time; waiting for the weather, knowing it has treats to share.

We shook the sand from our wellies, licked the salty air on our lips and smiled. The wind might have been as fierce as a face slap. But today...we`d tasted summer.

Grand Prize

Michaela Fowler with her nostalgic and honest account of Blackpool:

Blackpool: Oh I do like to be…here

Michaela wins flights and a hotel for up to 2 people for a European destination of her choice!

1st Runner-up

Jane McIntyre with her descriptive tale of a pre-summer trip to Aberdovey:

Aberdovey: Cheese on toast and a taste of summer

Jane wins a £200 LateRooms.com Voucher.

2nd Runner-up

Annie Taylor with her sunny, vivid reveal of hometown Alcalá la Real:

A Spot in Time – Alcalá la Real

Annie wins a £100 LateRooms.com Voucher.

Readers’ Choice

(Voted for by LateRooms.com Blog readers)

Liam McKenna with his somewhat sarcastic yet funny and well written ‘ode’ to Cheshunt:

A brief insight into the historic town of Cheshunt

Liam wins a Samsung Galaxy Camera and a £100 LateRooms.com Voucher.

So...you ask to take the money and run. Then what?

Blimey. It`s a year since I stopped working full time as a journalist. A job I started at 19. So I`ve got all this stuff in my head about why and when and who....

Maybe later.

For now...here`s what I know. Life`s a beach. Get on it.

xxx

What`s your view? Win chocolate !!!

Harlech`s perfect. Don`t tell a soul. 

Say you lived in a beach house. Maybe you do. Every day, you wake up and see wintry waves crashing against the shore, or shining and shimmering in the sun.

It`s dynamic; changing...so you`d never tire of it, right? Or can you have too much of a good thing?

This train of thought rolled in on a chilly, bright walk along the seemingly never-ending stretch of sand at Harlech yesterday. It was a bit of a change from my regular haunt at Aberdovey, but if you time it right at either beach, it`s just you and a dozen or so other people -- and a few dogs darting in and out of the water.

Harlech, Wales.

And I always look back at the nearest houses with envy, thinking that if I could pick my favourite view to wake up to...it would be this one: sea and sun, clouds and rain but always a calming, mesmerising seascape stretching into infinity.

And then I heard about a couple I know,who`d had just that. An incredible house, high on a hill, not far from where I was standing, with a clear view of the sea. They`ve just sold up. In their early sixties, they started wondering how much of a comfort the coast would be if they fell ill. So they`ve moved inland, to a town with a hospital, shops and a station close by.

I remember sitting with friends beside the pool in their idyllic garden in rural France. Over a barbecue and a few glasses of wine, everyone gazed at their enviable view--bucolic, beautiful, unbroken.....but..boring? `It IS lovely`, said our friend. `But it never really changes. We know it so well now.` I didn`t get it. It seemed like paradise. They`ve sold the place now, and, admittedly for all kinds of reasons, are back in Britain.

`Top of the Rock`, NYC.

Fast forward a couple of years to New York and the observation deck at the Rockefeller Center. Call me fickle and pitch me a one woman tent on top and I`d be pretty happy waking up to that view, too. Ten seconds of the stunning sights and sounds of the city that never sleeps gets  my blood pumping faster than an espresso triple shot. One of the most exciting places on the planet. . But then .......looking out at London--my birthplace, has the same effect. And Paris. Oh, actually, and the Cumbrian fells. See--I told you I was fickle.

Shropshire: up my street.

Maybe it`s just a case of the other man`s grass being greener. Or just nicer than no grass at all. When I was stuck in suburbia I dreamt about living in a place like Shropshire. In a little house with trees front and back. I`m here.

So how about you--what`s the view from your home or office right now? Does it inspire you or depress you? What would be your perfect view?

Send me a picture of the view from your window today, or the view you`d love to have, and I`ll add some to the blog. And because I`m feeling generous and happy after my seaside escape, there`ll be a lovemymondays.blogspot.co.uk  prize of chocolate for the best one; from gifted Shropshire chocolatier Julia Wenlock, who runs www.tootsweetschocolates.co.uk at Shrewsbury Market Hall. OK?

Please send your pic and a note about your view... to: janemcintyre1@btinternet.com  . Pictures from anywhere in the world would be just great, and the more the merrier...so thankyou in advance.

IMPORTANT (quite large, actually ) SMALLPRINT: If nobody sends me anything, I do, of course, reserve the right to eat all the chocolate myself. Every chunk. And I`m dieting.So save me. 

FAT CHANCE!!! YOUR PICS HAVE COME IN THICK AND FAST... NO MORE FOR NOW PLEASE AS WINNERS` PRIZES ARE NOW ACTUALLY BEING MADE BY JULIA THE CHOCOLATIER.  THANKS SO MUCH...HERE THEY ARE:

Judy Mansfield: nr Banbury

From Mike Howell in Folkestone :
Hi Jane
You wanted pics from people`s houses. Ok here are 2 views from my flat in Folkestone
View 1 (left) is looking over the English Channel, on a clear day I can see across to France.
The second view (below) is overlooking the town towards Caple le Ferne the site of the Battle of Britain
Museum and statue.

Thanks Mike. Envious!

And these from Kerry in Shrewsbury:

Kerry says: This (above)  is my favourite scenic view - I just have to look at it and I feel instant relaxation - It is at Llandanwyg Beach, I go down the road towards that beach and it feels like I am going home, even now just thinking about it I can feel  the waves of relaxation taking over me.  To sit there and the big rocks at the entrance to the beach and just look out over into the sea, listening to the waves gently rolling in, bliss! :)  Saw a Dolphin in the bay the last time I was there back in September, that was a fantastic sight. 

But she adds: This is my favourite of all views, never fails to bring a smile to my face, I will never tire of this view :)

And Kerry`s third pic; added because: " I thought I'd better include another of my favourite views - This (below)  is Porth Beach just outside Newquay in Cornwall, Sunsets here are beautiful!" Thanks Kerry! And Luke!!

Thanks to Scott Stephenson (aka @wasinthenavy on Twitter,)  for this picture, below . Scott`s description: "the view from Scott's Snack Shack in Shrewsbury!... Not the most picturesque"... (but thanks for sending it, Scott...you`re also in the draw!!)

Nita`s in Pwhelli. Which, in spite of having blog readers in Taiwan, Russia, Malaysia, Texas, New York, Uzbekistan and Germany, is the closest (SO FAR) to an international entry. Nita braved subzero temperatures, (she claims...) to net these gems (er...and the one of her laundry, which has its own charms...) Anything for chocolate, probably....!

But like Kerry.....Nita`s not averse to having a go at the awwwwwwwww factor....Here`s little Livvie...`dong yoga with the Waybuloos` !! 

And back to bucolic. Or possible Friesian. Anyway...it`s peeping through the kitchen blinds at Roy Williams in Longdon on Tern in Shropshire. No privacy, sometimes, is there?!

And thanks to Cathy Brown for this one.She might live in Shropshire...but today she`s a city girl in the smoke, working close to one of the capital`s most beautiful landmarks. Cathy says: " Can't see it from my desk but the wonderful sight of St Paul's Cathedral will greet me when I go out :-) 

How about yours? ( Come in, Belize.....over....) 

Oh. Not Belize, really, or anywhere near it...but *this just in* from another (nearly) foreign correspondent who loves chocolate but clearly thinks I was born yesterday. Yes, Ian, you may have used a telephoto lens but this isn`t *the view from your window* and you`re fooling no one ;) 

OK...back to reality now...and chilly winter driving, with a picture from Alec Dyche from a different kind of of window. Here`s what he saw, and what he has to put up with as he clocks up the miles.

And a couple of late entries from Tracey, who runs Hoboflorist in Oswestry . I`ll put Tracey`s pictures in the `views I`d like to have` category --as they hold special memories:

"Allan and I married at Niagara Falls in Canada.We walked up past the Falls the day after we got married back up to the Botanical Gardens where we were married outside in the rose gardens. On our way we saw the "Dalai Lama" and his friends, followed 5 minutes later By a family of Mennonites! Wonderful memories!"

2012: The best bits

2012: Truly a life changing year. From  Mexico (in my kitchen)...to Aberdovey...to a little hideaway in Normandy, to Paris,  New York , Trafalgar Square, Bath , Kent, Blackheath, Greenwich, Soho.... and  many other places in between.  If you had anything to do with these smiles....or are one of my army of fantastic friends, old and new, thankyou.
Wishing you and yours health, happiness and lots of love, fun and frolics in the year ahead xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


Tweets by @janemcintyre12

....and.....JUMP!!!

............there`s something about September. I`ve already said that I`m ready for autumn: love the colours, the plump fruit ripening in the garden; the chill in the air that means log fires aren`t far away.

But I reckon the anticipation and the excitement of a new school year stay with you, however old you are.

Maybe that feeling is heightened in this house, with a 16 year old starting sixth form college, making new friends and studying her chosen subjects in more depth. That`s a big step. But her older sister`s at a crossroads too. She has a good degree under her belt; some amazing work experience on both sides of the pond, and now it`s time for her to find a job in London. (Sooner, rather than later, please, as her first rent cheque`s due this week.) She`s home for a few more days, scouring the job ads, composing applications, making decisions...like thousands of other new graduates.

It`s a very different world from when I left journalism college at 19. I had three interviews to work on three different papers, and got offered a job on each of them. These days it`s a virtual rugby scrum for jobs. You have to stand out--but you don`t want to seem pushy. And you have to be prepared to make compromises. All I hope is that the people she`s applying to work for, have the courtesy to send some kind of reply. It must be so soul destroying to hear nothing back.

So. That`s both daughters facing new starts, and in a similar way, six months on from asking to leave my producer`s job at the BBC (with some money for my back pocket, ta.....) I`ve been through a crossroads too. But now, every day, I`m free to choose to do what I like, when I like. And I`ve never been happier. I`m writing (oh...did I tell you about the three book plots I have in my head? Only a matter of time before at least one of them`s in print. Honest .) I`m also running, travelling, walking on the beach, reading, chilling, visiting my dad while he can still remember who I am.....and laughing lots, too. I know I`m lucky, but I`ve also been through some turbulent times to get here.

Only this morning I heard from two friends--one whom I`ve known for many years, and one I know through social media but who I like to think of as a friend , on Twitter. Both of them say they`re not content with their lot. They`re considering taking a drastic turn.

I know it`s easier said than done, and you have to be able to eat and to pay for the roof over your head, and support your children. But if you can survive--then just follow your heart. Only you know if your job or your circumstances or the people around you are making you unhappy. If they are....then ...double check your parachute....have faith in yourself ...and jump.

Better to try it...than look back and wish.

Summer: thanks, but budge over now.

Good year for the walnuts ...

Look. It`s probably my fault.

I wrote a blog four months ago when we were deluged by daily monsoons. Don`t worry, I said. It`ll pass. And to put a positive spin on things, I offered ten damn good reasons to love the rain. I can`t remember all of them but one definitely had something to do with staying in and baking chocolate brownies.

Maybe I was tempting fate. You know, don`t you, that as soon as you start the early summer ritual of scraping the rust off the barbecue and looking up recipes for spicy chicken wings, it`ll cloud over .

Undeterred, weeks ago, I hit town and tweeted merrily about my four *bargain* pairs of summer shoes. High black strappy wedges. Sky blue ones with cheeky peep toes. Tan leather flats with a sparkly bit on the front that would glint in all that sun. And pumps so gleamingly white, they`d blind me with their brightness. Not for one moment did it occur to me why they`d all been marked down in price. Someone in retail land had clocked the long range weather forecast.

Uncannily accurate, too.

Luckily there were a few cracking sunny days in the mix. So few, really that it`s easy to count them on the fingers of one untanned hand. But now here we are, sharpening our pencils, flogging our frocks and crocs, and eyeing up supermarket stew packs.

So it was timely to wake today to a tweet from chef and food writer Sabrina (@SabrinaGhayour), about  how much she loves September, and the autumn `mists and mellow fruitfulness` so beloved of Keats. She even copied Ode to Autumn in her message,a poem I used to know off by heart.

Yes, it`s beautiful to feel the sun on your face, relax in your garden and run free in bare feet. But in recent days, I`ve started looking longingly at my boots again : high black suede;shiny conker brown.

Out shopping, I found myself stroking a charcoal grey angora jumper and wriggling my fingers into the tips of soft tan leather gloves. I`m longing for those Aberdovey days when I can pretend the beach is mine during a brisk walk or a bracing run against the breeze. Only after a pause for hot chocolate in a cafe overlooking the sea will I start my lazy meander home.

Much as I love throwing open every door and window at home in the summer, months later, I still get a thrill out of battening down the hatches with a gale lashing against the glass, knowing there`s a casserole cooking and a basket of logs for the fire. I was born in December and often wonder if it`s the same for all `winter babies`.

We`re not quite there yet, mind. There`ll be apples, pears and damsons to pick, and a little cottage in Normandy to visit where the branches are already heavy with walnuts. So long summer, and your pasty white face. I`m just about ready to warm up for winter.

ps Thanks for dropping by! Where in the world are you? Love to know a bit about you too! And if you`re on Twitter it would be great if you could RT..thankyou!

Life`s a beach...

......and it`s been too damn long since I ran along one. Aberdovey; actually, in February, bright and calm, as the sun was coming up.

Now look at it. Easter Monday and it`s bucketing down; in spades, which isn`t great if you`re sitting at the seaside with misted up windows and a back seat full of fractious children.

But I still think...rain or shine, there`s something mesmeric about just gazing out to sea. It`s a great stress buster. But always best if the place isn`t too packed.

I once spent an entire, post A level fortnight with `the girls`on sunbeds in Magalluf, close enough to hear skin sizzling all around. Yep,we got golden tans, cheap cocktails and love letters from Lars, Henrik and Sven until September, or very, very late August at the least, but we could have been anywhere.And the beach was so packed with row upon row of slow roasting tourists that we couldn`t really see the sea anyway.

Give me a brisk winter walk along Harlech`s vast expanse of sand any day; rain or shine...or if it`s got to be abroad,steer clear of the Costas and try one of Normandy`s sassy, classy resorts....like Honfleur.

Or if you want a little taste of Trouville to whet your appetite; catch the delicious Rachel Khoo tonight (BBC2 8.30pm ;repeated on Saturday 11.30am on BBC1) with the latest edition of The Little Paris Kitchen--she takes a day trip there. Yes I`m a fan. Someone who loves Paris, food, and red lipstick..AND the seaside? A bientot x

(On Twitter? Me too: @janemcintyre12 and @normandycottage)