So, September has arrived, throwing open the door and shutting it quickly to ensure Autumn doesn’t get in yet.  As for myself and Agent Soph, we said goodbye to the plot this weekend, leaving it well-watered, and made for the Suffolk countryside to spend it with family.  Proudly holding aloft a box of vegetable goods straight off the plot for my favourite ‘in-laws’, this would surely get me brownie points and the title of ‘Best Son-in-Law’.

Whenever I get off the London merry-go-round to stop, breathe and embrace this enchanting countryside, the wannabe farmer inside me always whispers, ‘Go on, do it! MOVE!’

Don’t get me wrong, I love the life Soph and I have created together on the London fringes; I feel like I’ve donned the wellies of the late and great Richard Briers as I assume the mantle of Tom from that 70s classic The Good Life (with Soph sighing ‘Oh Tom’ in her best Felicity Kendal voice!)  But in all seriousness, I’ve always craved a more rural way of life.

Some people’s stomachs turn when they smell a freshly-manured field, others go running for the city if there isn’t a Starbucks within fifty yards.  And don’t get me started on the ones that don’t realise vegetables are dirty when they first come up from the ground and aren’t pre-packed!  But for me, all these countryside characteristics are a reminder of where my heart really lies. Believe me, I’m not viewing it through the rose-tinted filter of a Richard Curtis film, where everything and everyone is perfect and there’s always a cheesy soundtrack to match your mood.  If I was, why the hell would I want to leave such a perfect London? I’d rather fancy living in a litter-free Notting Hill  where Hugh Grant is prime minister and Julia Roberts ‘is just a girl standing in front of a boy-‘.. No, no, no, stop it.  Bad Richard Curtis!

So this was a weekend spent in good company, eating great food and walking in the countryside to catch the final glimspes of summer’s late treasures.  It was much enjoyed and gave us plenty to think about as we reluctantly packed our haversacks, tied the mule to the cart and trundled back to the big smoke to resume our places on the merry-go-round..

Hmmm tomorrow’s therapy: an evening on the allotment and then home.

 Now, I wonder if we’ve got Love Actually on DVD…