Fete accompli

The Easton Fete, a Bank Holiday treat with a dog assault course, ferret racing and a wicked white elephant (stall, not pachiderm). Made better by being the climax to Nockstock; next year we're going to enter the tug o war.

Nockstock and three smoking barbecues

It was my best beloved's birthday last week, so we threw him a surprise back garden festival. It was magical. I want to start a commune, who'll join me?

Pie squared

All of a sudden it feels like Autumn, which is a mixed blessing; I'm looking forward to log fires, pyjamas and nustling but I don't want summer to end just yet. It has threatened rain for so many weeks that I'm feeling hard done by, but really shouldn't complain. it's been fairly glorious by British standards.

Still, the nights have started to darken down and the apples are finally ripened and beginning to drop. Last year we did nothing with them, so this year I'm determined to "turnover" a new leaf. Arf, arf. A country walk through Easton provided a bag full of glossy Blackberries and the garden gave up six ripe apples. I have no idea of what type, but they're sharp, tangy and as green as our ridiculously Farrow & Ball shed.

I whipped up some shortcrust pastry and chopped the six apples up into slices. I meltedf 50g of butter and 150g of golden caster sugar in a pan, then added the apples and a spoonful of stem ginger and syrup for 15 mins, before stirring in 150g of the blackberries for another five minutes. Into the pie case, brushed with beaten egg, sprinkled with vanilla sugar and then cooked for 55 minutes. Easy as pie.

An old crate filled with compost, a handful of californian poppy seeds, nasturtiums and corn poppies. Summer rain, some sunshine and time eventually erupts into floral fireworks....

Gather, form and fly

A trip up to town, to the Slaughtered Lamb, to see Megafaun, fine purveyors of freak folk. Lovely men who looked to be loving what they do. A really rarey treat.