Autumn is well and truly upon us. Yesterday evening, walking to the pub, I smelled the promise of dark nights round a bonfire, huddling to keep warm and watching fireworks. This evening I smelled the promise of whisky before going on walks in the dark; visits to friends in their warm houses. There is a chill in the air; I shall dig out my old sheepskin coat and gloves, and prepare to de-ice the car.
The central heating is back on, after a few weeks of ultimately futile resistance, and that makes me happy. Other things which make me happy include food, sleep, Stephen Fry and tea, and I will have all of those within this next hour. I had pancakes for tea. I suppose that this means that I am happy. That's good, then.
Apparently I am not awake enough to write, though.
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