The Slow Encroachment of Autumn

365 Photos - Gallery 12

Tales from the Flatland

Dear Chroniclers,

it's worth it just to see young Teenygoth's jaw hit the ground,

"I do so love your scrag-end, my dearest!"

Mrs electrofried gazes longingly at me across the dining-table,

"You do say the sweetest things, darling!"

Teenygoth makes a rude gesture indicating the imminent disgorge of the scant contents of her stomach-lining then leaves us to it. Oh for the snatched joys of a short break in the countryside! And as for mrs electrofried's scrag-end - all will be revealed in the fullness of time.

Thatched and Dangerous

Today's pasting finds us deep in the heart of Norfolk during the half-term holiday. We occupy a thatched-cottage abutting a dreamy field of "set-aside". Behind us lie the grounds, a veritable pot-pouri of late autumnal decay in all its many-splendoured hues and glory.

Mrs electrofried and I do so love Autumn, a season of fruitfulness and fleeting golden light. But our beautiful cottage retreat conceals hidden dangers, as I discovered to my cost earlier this week.

Indiana Jones and the Walk of Death

Do you remember those scenes from "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" when the gritty, ill-shaven hero encounters a series of traps and snares on the way to fulfillment?

Picture then your intrepid Chronicler as he awakes from sleep on the first night of our stay in the cottage. Nature calls and I stumble from bed, taking care not to disturb the recumbent form of my dearest as she dreams of dew quilted, fairy-tale gardens.

All is starless and bible-black outside, so I advance braille-like toward the corridor that leads to the bathroom. I pass across the first trap - two floor-boards that conceal a long drop to the cellar below. Following a recent rewiring of the cottage they are secured by just four slender screws ... and when I hear them creak beneath my increasingly corporeal form I start to panic!

I press on as quickly as I can, only to encounter the second snare, a delicate filigree rug that slides beneath my feet propelling me inexorably along the polished wooden floor toward the third, and penultimate, trap. It is no more than a small escarpment in the corridor, a step down of but an inch or so to accommodate the sloping floors of this ancient cottage. And I stub the toe of my recently broken foot to the sound of an expletive that will require both repentance and a carefully worded apology to young Teenygoth.

My travails are not yet at an end. Clutching a bruised and throbbing toe I stumble forward until my head meets with the sill of a bathroom door designed for those of an earlier generation who would now be viewed as vertically challenged by any reasonable modern-day standard. Ouch and double ouch!

So with throbbing toe and aching head I reach my destination. It hardly seems worth the effort and I resolve to master better bladder-control come the morn.

In the Naughty Corner

I shouldn't complain - the bruises will heal eventually and we're enjoying a splendid time here in the Flatlands. The highlight to date has been a visit to the school where our eldest daughter, Maximouse, has recently taken up her first teaching post.

Being half-term the school was deserted, so we had the opportunity to see her classroom. Unsurprisingly, the ladies of the family ganged up on me, so I spent much of the time nose to the wall in the "Naughty Corner" reflecting on my not inconsiderable misdeeds in life.

And how quickly life flashes before us. I recall cradling the baby Maximouse in much younger arms and now she's in charge of a class of adolescent senior-schoolers. Autumn time indeed, and such sweet-fruited memories to treasure!

Food for Thought

So this just about brings us full-circle.

Mrs electrofried and I join hands across two freshly-emptied plates that just a few moments ago were home to a rich stew made with scrag-end of lamb and a can of tomato soup. This was a meal we enjoyed regularly so many years ago when we first began our married life together as blushing newly-weds, and as a holiday treat my dearest has prepared it once more.

The cheapest cuts of meat were all we could afford then. How sweet they tasted at the time and how sweet they taste still as Autumn draws close.

And somewhere in the distance you may hear the sound of darling teenygoth retching!

yours as ever,

electrofried (mr)

Tonight the world is quite, quite flat ...

Dear Browsers and Browserettes,

tonight finds your correspondent pasting on the move. Mr and mrs electrofried (together of course, with dearest teenygoth) are currently deep in the heart of the Norfolk countryside. We're visiting the eldest fruit of the electrofried loins, young maximouse.

Feasting awaits

The fatted calf has been duly slaughtered, rendered and reconstituted to produce a rich platter of Farmer Brown's finest gristle'n'quorn burgers, a selection of which currently sizzle on the maximouse grill awaiting consumption. What better culinary treat could one hope for!

Chocolate, TV and plans ahead

Meanwhile, the ladies of the House are preparing to settle in to an evening of super-sized chocolate and light TV entertainment. Accordingly, yours truly and His Imperial Hirsutelessness (a charabanc-fettler extraordinaire and husband to maximouse) have plans for an expedition to "The Dog and ASBO", the local hostelry of choice to the young of the village.

We undertook a preliminary scouting excursion yesterday evening, but feel a more extended reconnaitre is in order tonight. We shall therefore set off shortly to lay claim to a pint or two of "Old Codger" accompanied by a fresh jar of pickled onions and a bag of pork scratchings - two essential ingredients that lie at the very heart of the Norfolk tapas bar.

An enlarged pack

Even the Hounds of Electrofried are at peace, having been re-united with the outlying branch of the pack. Maximouse and His Imperial are the proud owners of two lively cross-breeds whose combined gene-pool spans a considerable portion of the canine world.

The extended pack has chased, barked and gambolled to its hearts content and its constituent members now lie collectively on the kitchen floor, sizing up the Farmer Brown's with ever hopeful eyes.

On the soothing effects of flatness

One can only conclude this state of happiness has something to do with the state of flatness that is the distinguishing feature of these regions. All around is flat, with the possible exception of the Farmer Brown's that now sit puckered and beckoning on the plate before us.

There is a certain restful nature reflected in a sky that seems to have doubled in size since we set off from the House of Electrofried on our family visit. It is indeed good for the soul.

Old Codger beckons

And with that parting note I hear the discrete cough of His Imperial Hirsutelessness summoning me to the door. The chocolate is about to be broken out and it's time for us to make our escape. May we wish you all the very best of evenings from the extended family of electrofried.

yours as ever,

electrofried (mr)