Today the house is filled with the delicate smell of boiling quinces. 5 pounds of them all chopped up with some lemons and lemon juice. In the end, after much boiling and straining of liquids and adding of sugar, followed by some seriously hard boiling, the resulting goo will be bottled as clear, reddish Quince Jelly.

A fortnight ago I was sitting here waiting for a pan full of my own recipe Chilli Sauce to boil down a bit. It's now all been bottled and some has gone to friends. Don't you always give your friends chilli sauce?

And two weeks before that I made a huge volume of Gazpacho which I poured into old plastic milk bottles. A lot is now in the freezer, ready to be consumed during the winter. That will remind me that at some point in the preceding year, the world was a warm, if not hot, place.

Last night's mist has gone and been replaced by sunshine and light, fluffy clouds. It's still not exactly tropically warm, but, there, at this time of year what can you expect? I'm writing at the kitchen table under the shade of a bouquet of scarlet gladioli stuffed into a jug, being the only container I could find for them, which were given to me by daughter and son-in-law for my birthday. They also, it is true, gave me a DVD and a wonderful map of Ambridge. I now sit with the map opened every night for The Archers.