The rain has set in, in Stonehouse, not as beautifully as it did in Arcadia . In truth we may have returned to the days of greige.

I had promised myself to the ironing board when the weather turned. Somehow it feels like I am ironing myself into autumn. Lightweight clothes are ironed and put away, more firmly than before. If there is such a thing as a summer table cloth then that is ironed and may not see the light of day until 2024. I’ve always turned ironing into a learning experience, documentaries or podcasts. Today I ironed in the company of an Octopus called Scarlet, courtesy of the National Geographic Channel. Several levels of improvement from the mostly black and white magazine that popped through the postbox of my childhood home. What luxury to be able to absorb other worlds whilst ironing. I am so intrigued by the Octopus programme, I almost want more ironing, but I also know that an Octopus life has drawbacks, so I am happy that my pile is done with just as Scarlet meets her beau. He touches her with his ‘special’ breeding arm just as the last shirt is ironed. I am released from the responsibility of knowing that she will die as soon as she gives birth and that her babies will feast on her carcass as their first meal. For two reasons I am glad the ironing is over. I am also glad to not be an octopus. I am a loving mother but I know my limits.