Into the mist
It is the time of year for crunching through leaves, for warm woollen scarves and for mist that won’t lift all day.
It’s the time of year for bonfires and effigies, for hot potatoes cooked on an open fire, for marshmallows roasted on sticks, chestnuts and Parkin eaten in mittened fingers while fireworks whiz all around.
It is the time of year for grandfathers to help in the search for conkers — one-ers and two-ers and a six-er if you’re lucky. Baked in the oven or soaked in vinegar for extra strength to see off the competition in the playground conker championships.
It is the time of year to pile on warm clothes, to put the dog on a lead, to go out as a family, hand in hand and hand in hand, and walk and talk and disappear into the mist.
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