I concluded my Wednesday in the office with travel to Bloomsbury for Ms F's weekly shop. I found her a bit distraught about her family matters and upset about inconsiderate co-passengers on a bus. She was still able to look at the bright side of life.

"God is good. Sends me you and Steph, doctors and the taxi." - Ms F.

Regardless of her faith in having God on her side, Ms F didn't take chances when it comes to the fish counter. She had called Waitrose ahead of my visit and asked the staff to put aside a piece of breaded haddock for her to collect later. And indeed, when I enquired about "the haddock for Ms F", the store colleague fished it out from the fridge, complete with "Ms F" label.

I managed to buy everything from the list, apart from the lemon, which were out of stock if purchased loose. Unfortunately, no proverb offers an advice on what to do when life doesn't give you lemons, so I had to make do without them.

Let the season of head torches and work lights begin!

Tuesday, 22 September 2026, happened to coincide with the autumnal equinox. The day and night were equal, and the sun rose directly in the east and set directly in the west. Needless to say, it set very shortly after our group run began!

For the last two weeks, our Tuesday evening group managed to get away without switching on the head torches, perhaps thanks to the leafletting and signage tasks' nature, both of which took place on the streets. But tonight we were back in the William Hobbayne Centre courtyard, which isn't lit after dark. Thankfully, enough of us remembered about the torches to make our efforts effective.

Sue from the Hobbayne Charity directed us to the outdoor sections of the centre that we hadn't had time to tackle at our last session there in June. We cleared all the leaves, brambles and other weeds from the passages leading to the gates to Lower Boston Road and St Mark's Road. We also had time to speed-weed the area around the tool shed, which left all the outdoor spaces sorted out before the autumnal leaf drop.

Although the equinox marked the beginning of autumn, the weather and our immediate surroundings were sending us mixed signals about what season it actually was. Temperatures above 20 degrees made it feel as though it were still the middle of summer, while the dried Christmas tree we found in the yard brought wintry, festive vibes.

We had barely concluded that the tree would have to wait until January for the council’s next Christmas tree collection when hell broke loose. Suddenly, the GoodGymers launched an assault on the already-dead tree, chopping off its branches until only the main stem remained. Then the mob returned to their usual cheery demeanour. What could possibly have turned the GoodGymers into a gang of notorious Grinches? The prime suspect? Perhaps pub Christmas dinner advertisements appearing before we had even made it to Halloween?