Cambridge (Early Autumn)

Since returning from Thailand things have been pretty much smooth sailing. My work has been consistent, still working as an Officer with a London Borough hoping an opportunity in conservation or parks management will come along and sweep me off my feet. Though still a temporary staff member I’m feeling more and more like a cog inside the great, slow, inefficient machine and growing ever more appreciative of the structure, system and processes of the council for which I worked back home in NZ. Being an agency contractor while my colleagues strike intermittently over continued cost cutting and outsourcing does not make life any easier. Though, working from home and some misgivings about the actual productivity of some members of staff makes it remarkably easy for me to cross the picket line without any significant qualms. Though in an atmosphere of such economic uncertainty for many I’m sure the motivation to “knuckle down” may be hard for many of them to conjure.

My partner's work continues to be a source of fascinating work stories with many a colourful character, particularly those from the Cambridge Colleges. Porters keeping people off the grass, Fellows wanting contractors to keep their lowly selves out of view and scuttle round the back like half crabs, hand-made nails, and one pretentious librarian. Oh pardon my plebeian self; I should say “Keeper of the Old Library”. Her colourful work colleagues are now close acquaintances of mine as well through little more than anecdote alone.

The weather has been a let down. I recall having a couple of weeks of nice warm summer, though that passed some time ago and now it’s jacket on and rather a shrewd morning eye cast skywards to assess the likelihood of rain. The inevitable answer is “it shall”. But not to worry, this hasn’t been a typical summer if you are thinking of coming over this way. It has in fact been one of the wettest Augusts on record. For some reason this does not buoy the spirits (mine at least).

In spite of the weather there has been much to entertain. Exploring the English hedgerows and all they have to offer is a favoured pass time. Elderberries, blackberries, sloe, nettle and even the odd (as I discovered this past weekend) wild pear tree. Soon, to add to wild-food menu, if the squirrels can be beaten to the prize and a sufficiently tricky long, and stick-like implement can be fashioned in time walnuts, chestnuts, and if they can be located hazel nuts. There has to date been blackberry crumble, blackberry jam, elderberry cordial, and stewed pears. It must be maintained though that the best berries are those which are picked off the side of the path on a bicycle ride through little footpaths and English country lanes, preceding or immediately post a pint of ale at a quaint public house.

Most of the fields of wheat, barley, oats and rape-seed have been harvested except for these which have been left rotting in the fields thanks to the aforementioned poor autumn weather. So the scene out the train window has gone from a green fields to golden and now to bare earth, soon, many of them will be lying fallow for the winter and if things continue as they are, they will disappear all together from view as day break and sun set creep closer and closer to noon.

Just as I post this we have had a lovely sun soaked weekend. Decidedly autumnal with a cool breeze and some trees beginning to show signs of turning.