Posted by: suemason | November 9, 2009

Season of Mists

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
Close bosom friend of the maturing sun
Let’s get out the Jupiter
And take it for a run

So might John Keats (poet) have written had he access to a Jowett Jupiter. Instead he wrote..
Ode to Autumn Click here

Off we went in bright sunlight to travel the eight or so miles to the body shop and see how the Javelin was progressing. It’s having some serious bodywork and respraying done, and now we have the undercoat on, so it might not be long before we have it back. The outward journey was sunny; the roads dry; (plagiarism alert)the trees golden; the heavy fruit bending the boughs; While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day
And touched the stubble-plains with rosy hue. But by the time we were on the return lap, the mists had come down and it was really cold. Keats, in his fragile consumptive condition wouldn’t have made it there and back. Let’s face it, if he couldn’t survive Rome in February, which isn’t the coldest dampest place on the planet, he wouldnt have made the round trip in Cheshire today.


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