Addicted

When Rosie left for New York she took all of her belongings with her, bar a bowl of jellybeans. Miss E and I have not left that bowl alone, every day we’ve slowly devoured everything from sour cherry, sizzling cinnamon and sunkist lemon. I’m telling you, jellybeaning is addictive – the sizzling cinnamon is not.

We didn’t have jellybeans when I grew up, therefore I always feel like a kid when I eat them. The flavours have such punchy names and the colours are so pretty, that I turn into a 6-year old girl, wanting to grab the elusive cotton candy bean at all costs!

Luckily, the jellybean bowl has now been cleared out and so, we’re back to reality again. I’m noticing that the days are getting shorter and shorter and Kensington Gardens is no longer packed with tourists, loved up couples and geriatrics. On my running route I used to have to dodge past people taking photos of squirrels, but now I can pant in peace. It’s almost sad to see the autumn fighting off summer, leaving nothing but leaf upon leaf as a trace.

Welcome autumn. If I had one at hand, I would celebrate with a toasted marshmallow-flavoured jellybean.

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