Hibernating, red wine and definitely not talking about The C-Word

I've not yet got my head around these dark mornings. They've come from absolutely no where, heavy and stifling, undulating like thick fog. Where I once skipped into the kitchen at seven am with a summer breeze humming around my nightdress (imagine Snow White en route to clean), I now find myself barely exposing my wrist to rummage around for the electric blanket switch. I remember a time when shorter days made me giddy with excitement (alas, the burdens of growing up). I still enjoy early nights (cool evenings, lit fires, hot drinks and fur blankets)... But, not mornings so much now I have real-life actual adult responsibilities (cue roar of laughter).  

I can see why some animals hibernate. I think we still have traces left in our evolutionary chemistry- because I, for one, have eaten enough food so far to last me through until spring. Speaking of which, with Pete's birthday these next few days, I'm anticipating more cake than I can lay fingers on. Not to mention the meal I'm rustling him up tonight (Tagliatelle do Campagna; slow cooked beef, red wine, garlic, cream, whole grain mustard and mushrooms). More wine tends to end up carelessly glugged into my glass than goes into the dish, but isn't that what being a chef is all about?

As well as this, I've got Sophs birthday, and what I can't believe will be my birthday meal, coming up. It's all flashing by so quickly... Lord knows what I'm doing for Halloween (no really, give a sign). I'm in the grasps of collecting in her videos- easier said than done- but we're getting there. At the very least, I've got to terms with iMovie after what was effecrively three online tutorials, four troubleshooting forums and one tantrum. Then there's bonfire night (Lord, me again, please give me strength to be organized!) and a legal report, an essay and a visit to the Supreme Court. Phew.

In other news, I've been forbidden to talk about the c-word. Until my birthday has passed, anyway. Which is difficult in a house of spice candles and biscuit cutters, especially for a girl with a wild imagination of twinkling lights and childhood books and the smell of pine and gold ribbons and, well you know... I've said too much already. 

I'm spending money like wildfire at the moment, not helped by the fact I've lost (can you call it that, it's here somewhere) my cards. Thank heavens (last time I promise) for mama's credit card. I'm not sure how this happens (words of an addict?), it starts off with a Mexican and InStyle magazine. Then before you know it, I've popped into M&S brought enough food to feed a small army, numerous train tickets home and more cups of coffe than is medically safe. No idea how adults do it with tax, bills a mortgage; I'll figure it out in a year or two...