A Billy-Bob day

Long long ago I owned a book by Enid Blyton called Billy-Bob Tales. In one of those typically Enid Blyton stories about the little everyday doings of Billy-Bob and his spoilt-but-adorable little sister Belinda, Billy-Bob goes into the garden on a sunny, breezy autumn afternoon, excited to be out there, looking at the grass being blown this way and that.

I don’t remember what else he did in that story, but that image of a lovely windy day has always stayed in my mind. I loved the breezy cool days in Madras – admittedly very few days like that, so all the more precious – which usually happened just before or just after a hurricane (one of those that flicked Tamil Nadu with their tail while en route to poor ol' Andhra Pradesh to unleash their awesome destructive fury there). Too bad there was never any grass to look at then, but the treetops did a good job of being blown about.

Here in the UK, mild autumn days – like today - are my favourite… sunny but with no real heat from the sun, bright blue skies, a swirling fresh wind that blows your hair about and takes your breath away – and yes, a wind that ripples through the grass and makes it look like it’s being brushed with silver. The temperature has not dropped so much that the wind is painfully cold, so being blown about is actually very nice. On days like this, I feel as thrilled as Billy-Bob as I go for a walk and peer at the lovely flowers and plants and lawns in other people’s gardens.

Yep, I guess I’m having a Billy-Bob day.