Monday, Sept. 17, 2007 - 12:50 pm
I’m calling this one. There’s been mist, there’s been bright sunshine without too much heat, I’ve turned my ankle on any number of conkers trying to leave my flat and I’ve heard the geese commuting overhead every night this week so far, so…
Autumn! Yay!
Also, the Continental market was in town this weekend, so I have Polish sausage and French cheese and fresh warm bread. And Sunday was the Festival on the Green, with a band and a Gospel choir and stalls and a barbecue and a ‘Beer & Pimm’s Tent’ (quoth the flatmate “This is why the good God gave us two hands.”) so that’s a signifier too. All good Autumn-y stuff. As soon as I can step outside and have to come back in for a jumper I’ll be perfectly satisfied.
To be fair there’s only been one incidence of mist so far, but when I open my blinds in the morning and can’t see the end of my own damn’d garden then that counts. By the time I’d walked from the Tube to school my hair was dripping. And it’s kinda creepy walking across a wide open park when you can’t see the other side, or even people coming towards you on the path. A little boy and I gave each heart attacks looming up on each other, and I damn near walked into a tree. Not a little tree, either.
So now I just have to wrestle myself to the ground before I find myself in town buying new boots. I bought two new jumpers whilst in Gloucester in August and now I have to go back and buy another. The same jumper, I just want it in three of its four available colours (the white can go fug itself). It’s that nice a jumper. Or dress. Or whatever it’s calling itself. Whatever, they go over jeans. I’m trying to convince myself at the mo that I don’t actually need new boots, that all the boots I have are still perfectly serviceable, but I don’t know how long this is going to last.
I think it’s all about the cafes as well, and it’s not like there aren’t twenty thousand little cafes out on my own high street, never mind going into central London. I like sitting outside cafes in two jumpers and a coat drinking hot chocolate. It’s not quite necessary yet, but I’m planning ahead. I like it when I’m actually looking forward to getting on a Tube because it means a restoration of the circulation, rather than having to pre-plan a layer of loo paper under all my clothes to soak up the inevitable sheen of ick. I like getting up in the dark and coming home in the dark. Someone open an ice-rink already.
I think – the weather issues aside – it’s all about the downward slide (or the upward swing, depending on how one views it). If it’s September then it’s almost my birthday (sixteen days, people; tick ‘em off); my brother’s got a gig on the actual night and I’m vaguely considering going up the dogs the weekend after (hey, I’ve made a profit before…). Once my birthday’s been and gone there’s 101 little community events and friends’ birthdays through October and November and before you know it it’s Advent and we all know where that ends. It’s whatever I use and have always used to mark off the days on my mind’s internal calendar, the traditions and the past-times I look forward to. Turns out I’m a community animal at heart. All the good stuff in my life happens between September and mid-April (Easter being the original movable feast that it is, and btw pace my Father’s birthday). All the stuff I look forward to happens when it’s not warm and not sunny and I’m wrapped in layers
– I’ve also just realised how much of it involves food, but that may just be the spirit of the pear ‘n’ Nutella crepe making sure its memory is not forgotten –
and I have an excuse to break out the tweed and the gloves and the boots.
Anyhoo. Autumn. Aforementioned yay-ness, like I don’t bang on about this every year. Bring it on, world. Make it cold and frosty, and then give me warm and welcoming people and places so I can be extra glad to have reached them. Make it dark, so that I can choose to go to places with light, or not.
And I say let there be conkers, and there were conkers, and it was good.
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Cortisol
