I have been for a long walk this morning. On my way I confirmed my fears that there are no hazel nuts on the trees at all this year. There are plenty of squirrels about, but no nuts, not even the evidence that there used to be some. It looks like it's a very lean year. Without something practical to do, like picking up hazelnuts, I was able to wander about being poetic. The sussurating leaves rustled in the gusty air, the fallen drifting crablike across the road.

I walked along Coppermill Lane, past the geese and out to Walthamstow Marshes. Before I knew it I was down near the riding centre. A friendly horse let me feed it some juicy grass from just out of neck-stretch through the fence. I then spotted four fresh young lawyer's wigs in the paddock and slipped inside to pick them.

This, as it usually does, brought on a mania for mushroom picking and the rest of the morning was spent fruitlessly wandering the marshes and various spots on the other side of the river Lea where fairy ring champignon have been known to grow. There was nothing to add to my haul though, but I didn't mind - I had just enough to add to some salty bacon for a one-man omlette, scoffed with some fresh bread and butter. This thought sustained me all the way home.

(NB: After eating Coprinus comatus mushrooms, AKA Lawyer's Wig, it is very important not to have any alcohol at all for at least four hours. Do not pick them if you have any doubt at all about what you are looking at. If eating wild mushrooms, it can be a good precaution to save one as a specimen in case a toxicologist needs to analyse it and you have been rendered speechless. Or at the very least tell somewhat what it is you think you have been eating. If you don't know, don't do it)