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Fall back


from my photostream

from my photostream

You’d hardly believe it’s still technically summer, would you? Today had that real crispness about the air, the slightly deadened sound, there’s that wonderfully autumnal feel about. I for one welcome our autumnal overlords: while I’m a big fan of the summer and I argue strenuously with those who disagree that London in the summertime is as great as it’s made out to be, there’s something about this time of year that sets nerve ends a tingling.


As I approached work from Holborn this morning, the light seemed to just hang in the air, like you could sweep it away if you had a long enough broom. Cigarette smoke just lingered and lingered, dispersing so gradually. The trees in Lincoln’s Inn fields are on the cusp, the fulcrum before the leaves descend in a wash from green to brown to red to orange to dead. The mornings are just starting to gain that milky, hazy quality – I’ll know it’s really autumn when the sun gets in my eyes when I reach the steps to Westbury Avenue. When it’s that time one has to trek to work deeply ensconced in a corduroy jacket and brown scarf, and the cold nips at your nose yet the sun is pouring down onto you. 

It’s ace!


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