I conveniently forget the weeks of planning, sorting, ordering stock, relining pinboards for displays and staff-meetings and records, records, records to read and start to fill in.
In the 'old' days I also enjoyed starting the new class register with its red zig-zags and blue 'O' s. I always joked that I only wanted to be a teacher so I could keep a register. I used to make my own from my dad's spare football pool coupons - something else only fellow uk readers of my generation will know (Do they have them any more?). Now the register is computerised and far less romantic.
When I was a school-girl myself, I loved walking to school on September mornings when there was a morning dew.The cobwebs on the front garden shrubs would be magically transformed to diamond necklaces and the air would be scented with chrysanthemums and damp leaves. There was often a early morning chill with the promise of warm sunshine. The leaves would be starting to turn and the pavements were often slippery with berries and ripe fruits shed from overhanging trees. As I generally walked to school by myself I was able to keep in touch with my nature-loving self - not too cool for a young teenager if in the company of her classmates.
This is my second September since retiring - I was looking forward to a glorious Sepember last year, but it did nothing but rain and was gloomy most of the time, so may be this year will be glorious. The leaves seem to be turning early and the blustery weather is putting paid to the apples. They are being blown down before we can pick them and then they get bruised and won't keep.
I found the quote from Alexander Theroux on the internet, and although it does not quite match my sentiments voiced above - there is that whistful feel of summer's done.
