I remember, I remember.......

Autumn leaves.......

We seemed to have been having rather a pleasant walk that particular morning, the year wearing on and autumn taking a real hold of the forest.

We’d been lucky because, although cold, the sun was making every effort to brighten the day, and the leaves that remained on the trees were responding, positively glowing in places.

The Boy Bing, once again patiently paused as the old 'wheezer' behind attempted to keep up, and our efforts were now being rewarded by the frequently changing light, and the response of the trees to this.

We'd settled into one of our regular strolls. These had become very dear to me despite the effort I had to make to keep up with the young’un.

The lad turned.....

‘There’s a good spot guv.’

He'd noticed a rather good stump for me to rest on, and as I sat, he was already 'gently' reminding me that a halt in the walk indicated a treat or two. He does this by attempting to thrust his 'hooter' into one of my coat pockets.

‘Ah, Bing would you be a requiring a small treat?’

‘Or two guv…..or two.’

I fumbled in my left-hand pocket and he frowned, knowing full well that the treats this day were in my right pocket.

‘Come on old poop, cough ‘em up.’

I repeat the process by delving into my right-hand pocket, and he gives me a wink of approval.

Nosh is transferred to the gently receiving mouth.

The crows were being particularly ‘squawky’ that morning, and we’d spotted several magpies - I gave up counting them as I’m not sure how unlucky the rhyme is as we reach at least eight or nine!

Bing nudged my knee and gave a low 'woof', my cue to pass over the second treat.

A single bell could be heard tolling, but by the time I’m aware of this I’m not sure if its telling me the hour or announcing a funeral, across the forest.

The lad frowned at me

‘You’re a bit quiet today guv.’

‘Am I Bing?’

‘Cor I should say so. You usually mutter away about the mud, or tripping over branches and such.’

‘Do I?’

‘You know you do ancient puffer.’

‘I suppose I do.’

‘Oh yes, it wouldn’t be proper walk with you if I didn’t hear you huffing and puffing, and generally muttering about something or other or such like and so forth.’

‘Good heavens.’

A sudden gust, and hundreds of leaves; confetti like; showered down around us. Many different shades of autumn cascading and gently coming to rest on the forest floor, adding to the wonderful carpet we’ve been walking across.

Bingo has a good shake, and three or four leaves depart him, for the carpet.

‘I think old gaffer, that before we trundle on our way…..’

‘Yeeees?’

‘There’s a certain chap, not far from you, who could be persuaded to nibble one last goody before we trundle home.’

‘M’mmmm.’

‘Come on guv, you know it makes sense.’

‘Sense?’

‘Certainly aged poop, certainly.’

I can hear Alison saying…..'You’re like putty in his hands’
and of course I am, and of course the lads tail wags for a third time.

As we walked home, I suddenly heard myself mutter as I tripped over a half hidden branch, I noticed the lads grin and brief wag of his tail……..

........all’s well again.

(Walk on you old poop, you're nearly home.)