A black cat crossed R's path tonight as he put the rubbish out. This is no mean feat, as we don't have many cats around our way and he only had to step outside the door, so the cat must have been waiting in the perfect position for crossing. And it being Halloween, I would take that as a BAD OMEN. If I were him, I would be checking my tea for arsenic and pondering why my wife had got the life insurance papers out and in an envelope.

Bitterne today, for a lunch date at May's. The bright colours of the Autumn trees in the precinct did not lift the general greyness of the day, for me personally, or, it seemed for Bitterne globally. I am feeling achey and coldy and weak and generally suffering being in a grey world, with the clocks doing that thing they did to make the world seem darker, and the knowledge that it is 4 months until the birds start singing.

I did see a blackbird and a robin in my garden today. Hopefully eating the lettuce. I am sick of it and the damn stuff is still growing. The homegrown, organic pumpkin looked good, on top of the wheelie bin. I did a smiley face and was pleased with my handiwork. I gave out Wheetos mainly as we don't really keep sweets in and I never remember. They were well received. The kids go to loads of effort with their costumes, and all the mums go out too. Our last caller of the night was a boy with a baby in his arms, with white face paint on and a ghost outfit. That was the baby. Fair play to him. He won on the cuteness factor, although R muttered 'should be in bed' as I shut the door.

In Bitterne I bumped into one of my neighbours, who told me that one of her teenage sons had a hairline fracture on his jaw and lost 4 teeth. He had been hit with a baseball bat. And where did this happen? You will find it hard to swallow (as W probably does right now) - ready - Bursledon. Yep. The only people I really know who live there are the Milchards. So if they challenge you to a game of rounders, duck. Clearly the yoof of bursledon are made of mightier stuff than those of Thornhill when push comes to shove. Or maybe they just ate up their geens and drank their milk and their teeth stay in place, whereas our likely lad from up the road was sucking Haribo during those crucial years. Maybe this whole story could be used as a public health promotion tool. Or, maybe, just don't go to Bursledon.