Saturday, September 17, 2005
It's an almost perfect Autumn day here in my little part of London today. I wish I could bottle it. It's sunny yet crisp and chilled. But when I stand outside there's that indefinable je n'est sais quoi, to mis-quote Pulp, it's the smell of Summer packing it's bags and preparing to leave town. It's magical, mischievious, it's mysterious, Autumn is not a season who will suggest marriage after one good day, it'll take a lifetime to charm her. But I guess I'm a romantic and Autumn will always have a hold of my heart.