Feeling better on balance at the Equinox!

Wake at eight, after getting up to let Norman into the bedroom during the night, he was whimpering by the bedroom door for some unknown reason. Let him into the garden on a grey, cold morning, with steady drizzling rain. I breakfast on smoked salmon and Philadelphia cream cheese on Ryvita, whilst he has dry dog food enhanced by a generous helping of the meat sauce from the slow cooker that will be used to construct the Parmagiana later. On that note, I take the aubergine slices from the colander, rinse off the salt in a bath of cold water and set them to drain once more. I will fry them tonight and construct the dish, once I have bought a pack of grated Mozarella. We pick up Dolly and Teddy, and drive to the Westwood for a little after ten. The drizzle is still coming down as we head into the woods, not quite enough to prompt me to take out my brolly, but enough to dampen down the day. This transition from summer, to business as usual in the North of England, is a real downer. Already I am missing my shorts and lunch in the garden, perhaps we may get a reprieve before September is out? Today is the first day of Autumn, and the equinox, I love the colours and scents of autumn, crimson leaves and the faint cider smell of decaying foliage, I especially love those clear frosty mornings, when the air is like a crisp champagne. Not at all like today, which is probably more typical. Salmon Rushdie's autobiography, Joseph Anton, is being serialised on radio four, as book of the week. He is just at the point where Ayatollah Khomeini issues the fatwah from his death bed. I like Rushdie as a writer, but he only has himself to blame for taking the piss out of other people's beliefs. In Midnight's children, he has a dog that can smell insurgents called Budda, a not so veiled reference to the Buddhist meditation practice of annapannasatti, focussing on the subtle sensation of the air passing through the nostrils whilst breathing. Buddhists, unlike fundamentalists Muslims, aren't likely to kill you for taking the piss. In both cases the references are not essential to the narrative and indicate a narcissistic trait within the author, a tendency to just show off to his secular mates. No gardening is possible today, so I take Norman home to Tickton and drive to the Leisure centre for 11:35, only to find that I had forgotten to pick up my swimming gear. It must be an age thing, so resist the temptation to get annoyed and retrace my steps to correct the omission. I am back in the pool for twelve and it is not too busy, they have a double lane allocated for faster swimmers, which I share with two others. As usual, I warm up on 400m backstroke and find that my strength has returned, this is confirmed on breaststroke and then freestyle, so I do 4 x 100m IM and then warm down with 200m freestyle and backstroke. A total of 2,000m and I feel fine, whatever the problem was, it seems to have gone. After showering and changing, I dine on the cafe daily special, broccoli and salmon fish cake, with chips and mixed salad, before driving to Morrisons to do some shopping. Some of the pot plants in the Garden Room need changing, so buy a large white bowl of pot mums and a small tub of carnations. Norman needs dog tins and a restock of breakfast gear is in order, as well as the Mozarella for the Parmigiana. Get back to Tickton for three, give Norman some more dry dog food with a dollop of meat sauce, and then repot my plants. Afterwards meditate for an hour and then set too to construct La Parmagiana. This necessitates shallow frying the drained aubergine slices and then drying them on kitchen roll, before layering meat sauce, aubergine and Mozarella in an oval baking dish, liberally sprinkled with fresh basil leaves. Once the dish is built, it needs to "cook" in the fridge to let the flavours develop, before baking in the oven. Norman is growing impatient for his tea, so I serve him his senior gourmet tin of chicken and turkey, but liven it up with the last dregs of the meat sauce. Afterwards we do our evening walk down to the little bridge, on the way back, the rain stops, the skies clear and the sun appears briefly to the West. It is half past six, half past five GMT and the sun will set for six. Tomorrow is forecast to be a fine, sunny day after a cold night, I am looking after Louis and Alice, whilst Sarah runs Clement back to University in London. As I get older, every winter seems to be longer than the last. Perhaps I need to think seriously about wintering abroad, Norman may yet need a passport!