Harvest Festival Preparations.

 Saturday 25th October 2025

Tomorrow is the church Harvest Festival, so Mum asked if I’d go and help with the decorating and setting up of the food donations — which of course I did.

We called in at the stables on the way, though I can’t say I was overly keen on the idea.

There was a nice moment, though, when Peter and Elizabeth spotted me standing by the car and immediately dropped everything to come over. They both looked happy and well, which always pleases me — it’s good to see how life has turned out for them. From what I could gather, Charlotte is still seeing Nigel, though by the sound of it he’s up to his old tricks again. I couldn’t help saying I wasn’t exactly surprised. Charlotte herself was in the training ring with Lyn, and I decided it was best to keep out of the way and wait for Mum by the car.

Once we arrived at the church, my first job was to help one of the ladies sweep up the leaves blowing around by the door. It was a hopeless task in a brisk north-westerly wind, but we gave it a good go. By the time we left, I noticed that just as many had blown back again.

We arranged the food donations inside the entrance — baskets of fresh fruit and vegetables, tins, packets, and jars all neatly lined up. It reminded me of when Irene once suggested I try shop work; perhaps if I’d taken her up on it instead of turning into a farm girl, I might have done a tidier job of the display. Still, I did my best.

Mum and the other ladies were busy with flowers, wheat sheaves, and garlands of hops, the whole church beginning to smell of autumn and greenery. I mostly passed things over when asked, happy just to be part of it all.

It was an enjoyable afternoon, made even better when we stopped for fish and chips on the way home — the kind of simple treat that somehow makes a good day even better. By the time we got back, the air was cool and still, and the last of the daylight lingered across the fields. The house lights glowed softly across the yard as we carried everything inside — the smell of salt and vinegar following us in. Dad welcoming us with a big smile, the warmth from the wood burner and the chatter about the day's events coming up the stairs as I quickly changed — and it felt, in that small, contented way, like home.