Dear DiaryApologies for the lack of comms again last week but once again my mother had jetted off to foreign climes leaving me sans any form of communication tooling. Mother, obviously suitably sedated on Italian happy juice apparently agreed so at least I had a few nights back in the relative warmth and dry of my stable. It’s definitely safe to say we have skipped the “summer” programme this year and are safely now back in autumn, which means many things: darker mornings, darker nights, frost, seasonal sacrifice of the hair we have spent hours growing and the arrival of the season of spooktacular. No, I don’t mean Halloween – I mean the stage of the year where the word “fresh” is used as regularly as the adjective that starts with F and sounds like duck. He didn’t half get mini-mother and the mothership riled up.