Getting to know you

I think I may be coming to terms with Autumn at last.  There is a certain joy to be taken from the turning of the seasons.  People who live in uniformly temperate climes tend to point this out when the rest of us whine about our meteorological lot.  I suppose this makes sense.  There's a well-know psychological phenomenon known as The Hawthorne Effect.  I won't go into the whys-and-wherefores of this mental state, but it can be summed up as improvements in performance and behaviour can be observed in subjects who are aware that they are being watched.  This effect can to triggered by a change in one's environment.  The change can be beneficial or detrimental; it matters not which.  This change makes the subject feel loved, albeit in hugely abstracted way, and they react in a positive way.

I suppose it follows then that as we enter the cusp of the seasons, we too feel this benefit.  It manifests itself (for me at least) in a joy at the rediscovery of sweaters, root vegetables and Benilyn.  Also, I should declare an interest.  October is my birthday month, so I feel like the centre of attention for a bit, and associate the feelings of pleasure this scrutiny affords me with the return of autumn.  It does take a while to kick-in though.  The first few dark mornings are a real elbow in the solar plexus for one's psyche.

Indian summer lovin'

Mrs O and I had a walk in the country yesterday.  We had a family lunch to attend in the afternoon, so we thought we'd get some rudimentary exercise in before breaking our fast on two courses of high-octane scran and lashings of wine.

The weather was just delightful as we made our way through Epping Forest to my sister's house.  The sun was high, wide and handsome all day.  It was pleasantly warm as a result, but with just a hint of menace in the shade - just enough to remind you that winter is racing over the horizon.  It's a pleasure to be alive at this time of year when the sun is out.  The light is so sharp and the colours so very vivid.  I suppose it's the contrast between the squint-inducing, over lit hysteria of high-summer and the chewing-gun grey that we have in south east England for most of the winter that grabs one's sensory attention.

My eyes couldn't believe their luck.  The autumn colours in the forest were stunning, which is just as well because the going was tough.  We did two full hours at a reasonable lick, in the end.  A few years ago, we would have thought such a short and undemanding walk beneath our rambling dignity.  We used to walk most weekends then.  And clearly both of us still thought we'd gallop up to my sister's in about fifty minutes.  Back to the drawing board then.

These Gore-Tex boots are made for walking...

The weather of late has been dry and warm.  That sounds all right, doesn't it?  Unfortunately, the cloud base has been about ninety feet the whole time, so it's not quite the Indian summer we were pinning our hopes on.  It's all very uninspiring.  I used to go to college with a chap who claimed he liked it cloudy, the cloudier the better in fact.  But he was a statistical outlier.  Most right-thinking Britons realise it's cobblers.

In fact it's been so stuffy of a night recently that's it's quite a challenge to sleep properly.  It's a double-edged bread knife, weather like this in October.  While no-one (particularly not yours truly) likes being cold, there's something "correct" about the cool, crisp slap in the kisser that autumn brings.  You mentally start to get the sweaters and root vegetables out of mothballs in readiness.  

The cusp of seasons, like this, helps us mark the passage of time.  Humanity has been doing this since the dawn of time, and there remains a residual part of our seemingly sophisticated modern brains that still lights up when this happens.  We react by bleeding the radiators, whilst our hairy grunting forebears simply used to hurl a mammoth on the barbie and hope for the best.

I always spare a pensée for my expat friends in Australia at times like this.  Surely the shortening and cooling of the days that October brings must be hard-wired into northern hemispherians?  I don't care how long you've lived in Wallamaloo-Super-Mare, you're going to feel at odds with the prevailing wisdom at this time of year.  

The flip side is true too of course.  It's particularly acute for Aussies in the UK on Boxing Day for some reason.  If you have access to one on the 26th this year, take a close look at him or her as events unfold.  No matter how jolly or convivial the festivities, the Aussie will wear a strained expression throughout.  This bespeaks a mind troubled by thoughts such as "This is bollocks.  I should be striding along the beach in a pair of Ray Bans and some brightly-coloured spud-cups."  Yes, you can run but you can't hide from your instincts.

"More sprouts, Bruce?"

"You haven't got a choc-ice, have you?"