To succeed in life, you need three things: a wishbone, a backbone and a funnybone - Reba McEntire

A couple of weeks ago when I was chatting to my older daughter Emily she stopped in mid conversation and looked at my hands. She said "mum look at your hands, they've turned into Grandma's hands" and she took my hand in hers and looked at it closely. I can always rely on one or other of my offspring to tell me the uncomfortable truth. Some months ago my son had a word with me about my hairstyle, he warned me not to have my hair cut any shorter or I would be in danger of looking like a lesbian. I couldn't help laughing, I may have cared what people thought once, but not these days people can think what they like. 

I understood exactly what my daughter meant about my hands. You can try all sorts of lotions and potions to make your face look younger but your hands tell the truth, you can't stop your hands ageing. Several weeks ago my son asked me to buy him make up and a special sort of liquid to create scars ready for Halloween. I wasn't impressed, I don't approve of the Americanisation of our customs and traditions; as far as I'm concerned trick or treating is worse than begging because there is an element of threat. I managed to stop myself before my thoughts became words. Will knows my thoughts on Halloween and I knew he wouldn't be going trick or treating so there was no harm in him dressing up to go to a party. He has had a passion for dressing up ever since he was a little boy and in recent years he has become very creative with stage make up. It crossed my mind that if I'm not careful I will be like my grandma - she managed to turn disapproval into a performance art! When I was little it seemed as if she disapproved of everything that I found enjoyable and I don't want to be like that, so Will got his items for Halloween and he promised to send me some photos.

I used to enjoy bonfire night when I was a child but it seems to have got a bit out of control now. When I was growing up we just had a few fireworks in the back garden, Catherine wheels, Roman candles, screeches, traffic lights, jumping jacks, a couple of small rockets and some sparklers. It was all carefully supervised by my mum to make sure we stayed safe, and when our little display was over we would go back into the house and eat jacket potatoes to warm us up after standing out in the cold. Fireworks seem bigger and louder now (and much more expensive) and we are bothered by the sound of fireworks for days before and after bonfire night. It is very upsetting for the animals, so many dogs and other animals are terrified by the sound of fireworks. I think perhaps we need tighter regulation about when fireworks can be set off. I can remember my grandma saying that fireworks were a wicked waste, she said it was like burning money and I have to admit that she had a point. I haven't bought fireworks for over twenty years, but I think it would be a shame to see the custom die out completely.

The weather is finally getting a bit colder, not perhaps as cold as I would expect it to be in November but cold enough to make me want to wear a coat sometimes. At last I've packed away my summer clothes, dusted off some of my autumn and winter clothes, taken a big bag of stuff to the recycling bank and a few bits and bobs that weren't good enough for recycling were given a decent burial. I'm not usually very good at parting with clothes so I decided to reward myself with a couple of new items. I fell in love with a needle cord skirt which had a subtle rose pattern, but it was a little bit tight and much too long. I wasn't going to let a little thing like that put me off, I bought it anyway and made plans to alter it. It took a fair bit of planning and measuring, I unpicked the waistband, took out the zip, lining and part of the side seems, shortened it from the top then repositioned the zip, lining, side seems and waistband. It only took me a few hours and it was worth the effort because it fits perfectly and I like it. I guess the ability to sew is a very useful skill that both my mum and my grandma passed on to me, I'm grateful for that and I'm grateful for the example of my mum's determination and ability to cope with all the challenges that came her way. She has always told me that a woman can do anything that a man can do and we can do most things better because we take time to plan and we read the instructions! 

It was raining last Friday when I went to stay with my friend Clare but when I drove back on Saturday afternoon I was able to enjoy the beautiful Warwickshire and Northamptonshire landscape. As I left the A5 and joined the A428 at Crick the sun was sinking towards the horizon with a breathtaking display of deep fiery red colours. Ahead of me were deep, dark storm clouds but looking through the rear view mirror I could see clear skies, it was the sort of day when amid all the confusion you would expect to see a rainbow. On this occasion I only saw a faint one after I had driven away from the storm clouds, but it reminded me that I saw a very bright rainbow on another recent journey home from Clare's and when I was at her house in September we saw a double rainbow. I know it is only a natural phenomenon but I don't think it's possible to see a rainbow without feeling a glimmer of hope.

When I got home on Saturday the cats tried to lie to me, I knew that my daughter had fed them but they acted as if they were starving so I gave them some extra food and then went to sit down with a cup of tea. When I went back into the kitchen Dave the cat had vanished, I found him in a little den that he had created between the fridge freezer and the radiator. It is a fairly narrow space, I have several narrow storage boxes stacked there with brushes and mops standing behind. On top of the storage boxes I have a bag of reusable shopping bags and another bag full of carrier bags, Dave had made himself a cat nest in the bag of carrier bags. He has several cat beds, igloos, blankets etc, but he was a stray for a long time, old habits die hard and he likes to find his own comforts. I couldn't resist taking a photo of him with his 'poor pathetic me' face. I wouldn't let him stay on his nest of carrier bags, but maybe I will buy him a radiator bed instead.