Another Year, Another Autumn

As the British tend to do, we will look back on this past summer with joy. We’ll talk about it like we did that of 1976 – a long, hot, lazy, crazy summer. I was more likely to be playing in a paddling pool than worrying about shortages of the plastic pools back then but I do remember the heat and picking the fruit from my father’s fruit bushes while sitting in the back garden. Sadly, the topless lads playing football on the green behind my house has given way to to the Sunday morning rugby matches. This is a sign of the on-coming winter as the fields turn from their burnt golden grass to a dark-brown mud bath. Still, autumn comes first and it’s my favourite of seasons. I think it’s time I got the camera out to start recording some of it.