257. Longevity

Herself and I are celebrating an anniversary today. And I'm proud of it - of her, mainly, as I'm not sure how she puts up with me. But I'm so glad she does, and I tell her so every day.

256. Cooling

In Aldeburgh last week the smell of autumn was in the air, thanks to a few local bonfires. There is nothing, for me, more redolent of childhood weekends in the countryside than that smell - and it makes me happy. But the weather was lovely - warm and sunny. So I knew that I'd have to wait a little longer...

But my hands got cold as I cycled to work this morning.

WHOOP!

That means it must be coming. Soon the pavements and streets will be carpeted with leaves rather than gormless tourists. I will need to remember to bring a cardigan and my bike lights to work because I am a thousand years old and comfort and safety are suddenly All I Think About.

I have started to watch the thermometer slightly obsessively, however, because today's cooler morning might be a phoney war. Too often in the past I've got all excited about colder weather just because there's suddenly an 'r' in the month again and been chided for my folly. Increasingly it's not even cold on Christmas Day, which just plain ruins it, no matter how good the gifts, goose and grog.

Last night on the tellybox the man said that it would drop to single figures overnight. I trilled with glee. And this morning - cold hands. But I've just strolled along the canal perfectly comfortably in short sleeves so I've put my autumnal happiness back in its box for now. Maybe it will be cooler next week?

255. National Trust volunteers

For Herself's last birthday, my Parent gave her a membership to the National Trust. It was a generous, thoughtful present, despite any connotations of socks, sandals and cagoules one may (erroneously) make with the members of that august institution.

Herself is a thrifty gal, and likes to make sure that we get our money's worth. Or, in this case, the Parent's. Quite right too.

So, this year, we have been to St Michael's Mount, Monk's House, Levant Mine, Tyntesfield House, Willow Walk, Sissinghurst and Godrevy Head. Soon we will visit Blickling Hall and Orford Ness.

All those places have been fascinating, and well worth a visit, but the best thing about going to National Trust properties is the volunteers. To a body they are friendly, charming and encyclopedically well informed. Most importantly, they all seem to have a genuine affection - even passion - for their subject.

I'm a bah humbug sort, but you can't fail to be impressed by these people - and they're doing it all for free. Almost makes you feel proud to be British.

254. Sarah Waters

Sarah Waters has published five novels: Tipping the Velvet, Affinity, Fingersmith, The Night Watch and The Little Stranger. I couldn't finish The Little Stranger, due to an incident involving an elderly labrador that made me both weepy and angry. But I've read all the others, and I think she's a genius.

She calls herself an old-fashioned writer, because she cares about characters and plots. Which makes me an old-fashioned reader, because if a novel doesn't have great characters and a plot worth following, why would I read it? (John Banville, please take note.)

Tipping the Velvet is both hilarious and ridiculous, but you can't deny the authenticity of it, nor the take-no-prisoners pace.

Affinity is my least favourite, I think.

Fingersmith is just fantastic - one of the best stories I have ever read.

I love The Night Watch too, now, but it has grown on me. I wasn't sure about it at first, and the TV adaptation was No Good, but I find I go back to the book quite regularly now, when other novels pall.

I like not being able to see, hear or feel the writer pulling the strings, and Sarah Waters is very good at getting herself out of the way. The writing is never showy, or flashy, but some of her sentences are as good as any produced by more 'literary' writers. I'm starting to really hate literary fiction, by the way, but that's for a different blog.

I hope she's busy at work on number six. It's been a while...

253. Seth Meyers

For those not in the kno', Seth is the head writer and 'Weekend Update' anchor at Saturday Night Live.

I love him. Obvs, or he wouldn't be in this blog. But I don't watch SNL because it's not on the tellybox here, so I mainly love the idea of him. Which is probably (all things considered) a good thing.

He is definitely dreamy, in that slightly pointy, nerd-boy way I seem to like. He's definitely clever and funny - he is responsible for the Tina Fey/Sarah Palin sketches that everybody made such a fuss about. Also, you don't get that job without being clever and funny - he took over from Tina Fey (see previous blog post).

Martha Stewart is in love with him, which makes him giggle like a schoolgirl.

He's a runner.

Anyway, that's enough. Seth, I love you.

252. Kevin Kline

I miss Kevin Kline. I know he's alive and well and thesping away in NYC, but I miss him being on my screen. He tipped up recently in an underrated movie called 'Definitely, Maybe' and was gorgeous as ever, but it's not enough. Also, I don't want him to have changed. If he's had work done or stopped doing that thing with his hands or WORSE had his teeth done, that's it - he can stay on the boards.

They don't call him Kevin Decline for nothing, though. Whenever somebody complains about Steve Martin in It's Complicated (frequently, don't ask) I get them to imagine Kevin Kline in that part and they go all melty and demand to know why KK didn't do the decent thing and take part. Well, because he says no to everything. Also, maybe he hasn't forgiven Meryl for getting all the attention over Sophie's Choice.

Anyway, Kevin, stop saying no. Your fans need you.

251. Coffee

I've been feeling a bit orf colour the last three days and in that time I have realised how much I love coffee - because I ain't had none. Tea is all very well and good (and, remember, I am a recent convert to tea) but it's a miserable replacement for a cup of coffee in the morning.

I've just been reading about something called a 'Cortado' which is espresso with an exact percentage of steamed milk added to it. Exact. Get it wrong and it becomes something else. I like that kind of a challenge.

I'm not going to have any coffee until the weekend, but then I will be extremely enjoying it. And maybe I'll have a chocolate croissant with it - to celebrate.