Sunday

Today I overslept and missed the first ten minutes of the Archers. I think I missed Linda and Kathy having a big heart to heart about the rape which happened several years ago which has returned to haunt Kathy. So as it goes a gentle induction into the day of rest. Not too worry The Archers is now available as a podcast so never need miss an episode again - how modern huh!

I then got some text messages from Sparky asking me if I was on the way to Yeovil. Erm no. I have been before and the recent away day trips have forced Pater and I to review our away day destinations. It was then suggested I could watch it in the local pub on sky. I do not agree with Sky Sports for so many reasons. But it was an option. Checked a recent GFC programme kick off 3pm which meant I could I resume my slumber in my vast bed. I do so like my bed. It did occur to me that one half of the mattress was getting well used whilst the other untouched as I rarely move across the middle to the other side. Oh well. Keep turning it.

Once the joys of Phil n Jill's 50th wedding anniversary had been celebrated I was up and open to the spectacular outside weather. Oh well. Another grey and cloudy day - but as a bonus the forecast rain was not in evidence.

I decided to go for my walk and put on my corduroy combats from M&S which fit me better now than ever before and make me look less pikey. So off I went. Off passed Sunhill. Onto the main road and indeed into the heart of common Wombledon. I made a snap decision to go up the hill and catch a glimpse of the Common. Maybe Tomsk would be there. The walk up the hill is a test of breathing apparatus and thighs. I managed it well despite the Sunday walkers dawdling across the pavement. So at the top of the hill you enter 'The Village' where trackie bottoms are the most frowned upon of attire. Lucky I had cords on. And my Gillingham FC beanie.

Through the High Street and towards The Dog n Fox pub which despite the weather insisted on having its outdoor burners going in case a troop of people wished to sit outside. Beyond the pubs there are a plethora of boutique clothes shops and erm estate agents. I kept up my pace and got to the War Memorial, the poppy wreathes still there from last Sunday's Remembrance Day. I crossed the road again, in between more 'Chelsea tractors' than the number of tractors mentioned on the Archers. Then I spotted a sign showing the areas of Wimbledon Common and how it intersects with Putney Common. I decided to stride out for the Windmill. And so I did. The leaves were falling like rain as the wind was significantly more noticeable up here and for the first 5 minutes of my transversing I was alone.

That soon changed. Plenty of couples out walking the dog in their designer wellies. I passed several friendly dogs but only one human acknowledged my presence. A smile does not hurt. I approached the windmill across a rather exposed part of the Common. The wind ripping through me, I stopped to take a photo or two. That was a mistake. The chill stuck with me for the rest of my walk. Oh look. In front of me was Windmill road - the express way in and out of the museum. How many cars? Queuing to get onto the auspicious Parkside? I sniggered. All these happy Sunday day outers.. jumped in a car and gone probably not very far to go to the Windmill. Well you never know you may see Billie Piper up here. I resumed my pace and headed for the road and my sojourn back down the hill. I took the bridle path and stepped deftly through the horseshoe marks and puddles. The houses on Parkside are huge by the way - millionaires row no doubt over looking the desolate and distinct autumnal coloured common.

I had made a deal with myself to buy a coffee on the way back through the Village - but my arms were numb and I couldn't trust them and my pained chilled hands. So decided to avoid the humiliation. Back to common Wimbledon and erm Sarf Wimbledon and the more trusted CW district. Quick stop off for some onions and a pear for my parsnip n pear soup. The dear female behind me in the queue was at pains to send her partner to all aisles of the Tesco Express in search of milk/a decent sandwich and anything else she thought he needed. Clearly he was unable to think for himself and she was best off keeping place in the queue.

Home. Very cold. Cuppa and then a wash maybe before heading to pub to watch footie. Turning on Radio 5 I discovered it was 0-0 and a 1.30pm KO. It was now 2.30pm. Could I be bothered to go back out - nah! So I pressed on with making my soup. Once in the pot simmering for 20mins - shower. Returned to PC to find score now 1-1. With a 15min added time first half. One of our players had concussed himself. Blimey - throwing ourselves into a game. Finally. Normal service resumed as we still lost 2-1.

Liquidise that soup. Eat it. Scrummy. 2 bowls later I am quite full. Come Dine with Me. Then ironing. Oh joy oh joy. Black blouses are really tricky to iron in artificial lights. And now I was so WARM I had to strip off all the layers I had resumed post shower. Strictly Come Farcing Sunday show. At least justice is finally being served up with Kate out. Pity as Anton is amusing.

Now Top Gear. Good evening.