In the past 3 months I’ve had to cope with being shouted at, sworn at, inappropriately flirted with, threatened with being ostracised, threatened with having my reputation smeared, had my privacy and confidentiality breached, and had two temper tantrums directed at me the likes of which you usually see in a 2 year old not grown ups in their 50s. All of the people involved have been male and in positions of authority in organisations and the organisations involved have taken no action. If you have a Code of Conduct policy and it doesn’t cover appalling behaviour like this it’s not worth the paper it’s written on. I’m so tired of having to cope with this kind of nonsense that I’ve taken a huge step back from the organisations concerned and taken my knowledge, friendly and cheerful disposition, and skill set with me.

I’m in the lull. The space between the long, warm, relaxing days of Summer and the cold creeping darkness of stormy Autumn. I feel like I’m winding down, preparing for hibernation and I admit tolerance is in limited supply.

It’s early evening and I’m typing this gently swinging to and fro on my garden swing seat, blinded by a low Autumn sun. I’m usually kept company by the song of birds, but the second brood of House Martin chicks have left the nest under my eaves and the Swifts and Swallows disappeared last week – I’m already missing their cheerful chatter. I haven’t seen the Woodpeckers in weeks and the feeders are still full from yesterday – the resident Tits, Sparrows and Finches are all on their annual moult and may be feeling too vulnerable to be out in the open. The Blackbirds, Dunnocks and Robins too are largely absent. They are also in the lull.

I did have a visit from the Sparrow Hawk yesterday, though, and the juvenile Buzzard is circling on the currents overhead occasionally filling the air with its haunting cry. It always sounds so lonely, though I know its parents are still nearby, and I want to offer it comfort and company.

Peonies have turned to burnished copper, the cherry tree is dripping yellow gold and bright red berries adorn the Skimmia. Soon the grass will be littered wtih falling Beech and Oak leaves, which will have to be scooped from the pond with a net.

The perennial Cornflower, however, has a second flush of blue flowers which reach upwards to the weakening sun and are joined by self seeded Cranesbill. A dark corner of the patio is still cheered by the last of the Geraniums grown from seed and there are still pristine white petals on the Alstromeria. They are not yet ready to acquiesce and remind me there are still evenings on the swing seat to be had, watching the sun dip over the horizon and the fiery sky morph from cloud to star.

My bones, though, are heavy and my brain sleepy. I feel the need to retreat to soft pillows and hot comforting tea. To rest. To be quiet, for a little while, and enjoy the peace of the lull.