"Autumn is shiny, brown concers falling

Autumn is brown, fast hedhogs highbnating

Autumn is boy and girls having leav fights

Thats what Autumn is

Autumn is spikye heghogs sleeping

Autumn is big shiny concer colections

Autumn is crunchy, rasling, leavs falling

Thats what autumn is"

By Thing Two Age 7

 This is my entry to the Center Parcs and Tots 100 November challenge. If I’m chosen, I would like to visit Whinefell Forest

Our favourate tip from Emma is:

Be inspired by your surroundings - Observe as the leaves change colour from green to red and let the 

beautiful burnt oranges get the creative juices flowing, what does it look like and remind you of?

We're the conker-ers

The Kitten evidently hates me.  Seemingly terrifically displeased that I remove her shit from the litter tray she has decided TWICE today to substitute logs for pebbles and to bury them all amongst the litter, separately. Buggersticks.

Thing Two started the day in a tremendously bad mood as I had the audacity to ask her to pick up all the pieces of paper of hers, little ripped pieces, that were on the floor.  Obviously I'm an incredibly awful mother.  Thing One and The Husband started the day, as usual, with tantrums.  Am never quite sure who tantrums most, Thing One, The Toddler or The Husband.  Thing One's object de tantrum this morning? We dared to insist he wore his school sweater.

It's only October, early October at that and yet already the shops are brimming with Christmas paraphernalia an absurdity that is not lost on Thing Two who seemed terribly flummoxed as to why they'd possibly have Christmas stuff when we haven't even had Halloween or Bonfire night yet, yes wisdom of a seven year old speaks volumes.

Yet once alone, I'll admit to silently procrastinating as to how to best strategically organise the Christmas shopping on a budget that's tighter than a nuns arse, involving shopping in monthly segments to ensure it's all done in time, starting this month. Shitzles.

We've been on the mandatory conker hunt, the first being somewhat of a huge failure resulting in a divaesque strop from Thing One yet the second indeed proved plentiful.  The assault of heavy rain and heavy winds tore the conkers from the trees.  People emerged with bags like greedy children in a sweetshop cooping up their obvious bounty yet having no nerve nor appetite for the the fun that is the searching so The Party of Five went foraging through the dancing long grass expertly dodging the rubbish and dog shit, unearthing those that others had forgotten with wind slapped cheeks and dimpled smiles, hands, pockets and bags ripe and over flowing with our treasure.

It always annoys and saddens me to see children raping nature in such a brutal way as oft is the case round here, hoards of the little and not so little sods ripping branches and boughs from the trees only to use them to beat the rest of the tree into relinquishing their bounty, no respect, no patience.  It certainly isn't the way we do it.

What do you do with your conkers?  We appear to stockpile ours like kleptomaniac squirrels with no real purpose and it seems so wasteful.

When I was young and in college I had five pet conkers that accompanied me to my lessons.  Upon their glossy brown I had tippexed their names Will - Iam - The- Conker - Er. True story

Alas it's ere approaching the school run, the time when The Toddler switches personality from an absolute delight to an absolute git as soon as Things One & Two step over the threshold & I don't even have any chocolate.  This may call for Nutella, with a spoon.

I sense infliction in the air. Help me disappear

It's that time of year again  yet one has to ask when is it really not that time of year of late?  The days are 50 shades of grey swaying between damp, wet and wetter.  The air is heavier then a resolute sigh making one need to chew though it rather then breath through it so that if you breath in you might forget to breath out again.

Even the rain seems heavy, more akin to thumps then drops as they linger longer then is appropriate for a mere aquaintence upon your lashes as if allowing your sorrow to inflate then further.

It's cold.  Cold enough for heating on 24/7.  Cold enough to issue a short sharp slap when you open the window for air, desperate for air as you braille read your way through the grey, as it edits and erases the autobiography of your soul. Trying to clear it away with your finger, to finger paint something (anything) to prove you were here..  Just trying to breath.  Just trying to think and indeed to not think in equal measures.

There's infliction in her eyes.

It gets to half four in the afternoon and the grey disappears and gives way to black.  An all consuming blackness that swallows your thoughts.

& the drugs don't work they just make you worse.

I can't seem to see. I can't seem to breath.  I can't seem to be anymore.  & I can't stop the the thoughts that crawl  and slither out of the gloom. I can't seem to see what's wrong yet the strange days are coming home again.

My head is screaming yet my lips are dry from their silence. The words, they went away.

& she's fading.

Everything feels acutely wrong.  There's a wrongness in the air.

So in the absence of alcohol, and in leau of an increase in medication it's time to break out the Multivits again and in particular Vitamin D.

For those unaware, there has been a suggestion that a deficiency in Vitamin D can contribute significantly to M.E, CFS, Fibromyalgia, depression and a whole host of other health issues.  Don't get me wrong, I'm as sceptical as ever.  I did experiment with supplements in conjunction with my usual medication last year and I can't say I noticed an effect, however it can't hurt right?  We all need a little little light through the dark sometimes.  Maybe this year I'll try one of those nifty spray vitamin d supplements.

Help me find myself., inside myself.

Everything is so grey.  I need a raincoat.  I need a phone call.  I need a big hug.

Ninja Autumn terrorists.

Who stole all the conkers? I have mental imagery of ninja squirrels in the midst of the night on a secret tactical mission to relieve the country of all conkers.  Seriously, this time last year The Spawn had bags overflowing with shiny conker goodness and yet this year, none. Zip. Zilch. Nada.  How grossly unfair. You can't have Autumn without them.  They're mandatory and iconic of the season. As you can probably tell I'm terribly indignant over the utter injustice of this.

I blame aerosols and polar bears....or something.

Oh and the summer of rain. It's still raining. I fear it may never end and we'll have to rename the UK to Atlantis. So much rain yet not enough to wash away the gray. I find myself looking to the ground when walking just to feed the hunger for colour my eyes literally licking the colour from the fallen leaves which incidentally you're never to old to kick. Fact.

Yet It's frightfully easy to jest about the rather unfortunate weather and forget that many of us are indeed somewhat lucky insofar as to say we may be a victim of It's enslaught yet to many It's an indecent attack of epic proportions. We're almost immune to the seemingly yearly pictures of flooding with rescue boats down streets and the utter devastation the floods leave in their wake to homes I can only imagine how vile it must feel,  akin to the violation of a break in. Then there's the small businesses who I feel for.  People often focus on the glamour whoring jobs in the life yet none of those help in these instances, the real hero's are the rescue services and in the aftermath flood restoration companies such as UK Commercial Cleaning and pest control who work hard to put things right again, clearing up the debris of natures parties.

I wonder if they could find me the conkers?

I used to have pet conkers at college. Four to be exact. They were darling little things with their names tattooed upon them with trusty tip-ex, 'William', 'The', 'conker' and 'er'.

I think the weather is broken. We need a sky plumber and sky painter.

Still, each time the rain pauses for breath and the Sun moons us we at least get to drink in the beautiful sight of the rainbows.....

Sod the gold though, I'll be chasing rainbows for a pot of conkers.