Well, it happened didn’t it? There we were, just about getting used to those longer summer days, the ones sprinkled with sunshine, greenery, long walks, beer gardens, flip flops and taking impromptu decisions to crack open a bottle of something cold and fire up the BBQ.
Then what happened? No, not Brexit. Nature. The Earth only went and moved didn’t it? Before we knew it, the days were shorter, the nights were drawing in, and the trees were starting to resemble my head: bald.
I’m one of those people that actually likes the coldness of winter. There is something refreshing and vibrant about those crisp early mornings, with ice on the windscreen, glistening spider webs and evidence that you are actually breathing as you exhale a cloudy puff. I also like my bobble hat very much.
Winter also delivers Christmas, which in my world at least, means a lot of love and laughter with friends and family getting together. “Lovely stuff,” as Alan Partridge might say. What I’m not too fussed about, however, is autumn. Don’t get me wrong, I love the colour changes that the season brings, a patchwork of ambers and rusts and reds. I also love the fact that the rugby season is back in full swing. But that’s where it ends for me.
Last weekend I was out walking Paddy, our pooch, wrapped up in waterproof clothing (me, not him) as horizontal rain struck my face and blurred my specs. It was windy and grey and miserable. Gone were the firm grassy footpaths which mapped out my summer meanderings. Instead I was faced with sloshy, sticky mud-laden footpaths. It was pants to be honest.
Talking of man’s best friend, if you’re contemplating getting a dog, think long and hard before you commit. Don’t get me wrong, they’re lovely creatures and make great companions. You imagine they’re all furry and happy and self-contained. But don’t be fooled. When you’re trudging through muck in autumn with the rain lashing down you’ll wish you’d bought a cat.
I have a fairly fluffy dog (sounds like the beginning of a Spike Milligan poem), which is nice. The downside is he soaks up the rain like a sponge and collects mud on his paws and legs like a bee gathering pollen. When we got home, I had to give him a shower and then put up with the smell of wet dog for the next few hours. But just as the pong was lifting and my body temperature was approaching normality, the wind picked up again. And I mean really picked up. Within minutes, my beautiful, imposing, statuesque willow tree had blown over in my garden. #gutted
So thanks autumn. Thanks very much. I know you’ve got a little longer left on your visa but I can’t wait for winter to come along and boot you out for another year.
And there you have it. As ever, I’d be interested to hear your thoughts. Do you agree with my curmudgeonly views on autumn or is it just me?
To read the article in The Business Exchange, please click here.
