Despite the rapidly dropping temperatures and the grey skies, I set off for tennis this evening -- in a tracksuit, not a tennis skirt, mind. I got to the club to find it was deserted. Mix-in evenings are clearly over for the year, but how did everyone else know? There was no email, no general announcement. Is instinctively knowing the end of the season something that comes once you've played there for 20 years, along with how many balls there should be on the court at all times (four), when to stay at the net (haven't a clue -- and it shows), and who's really in charge (Margaret)?
However, the end of the tennis season signals the start of my favorite season -- autumn. And what better way to kick it off than with a bowl of autumnal-colored soup. This one is beetroot and carrot, with a hefty helping of fresh coriander and some lime juice to cut through the earthiness. Glorious.
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