Winter is here.
According to the official calendar, we’ve barely reached the start of Autumn, but that’s a lie. As I write, the grey clouds are gathering, the rain is falling, and the cold breezes are blowing against the window.
There’s also a guy with some sort of power tool outside, which is rather ruining the chilly ambience.
But let’s return to the issue of queue-jumping seasons: I’ve known Summer was finished since a day in late January when I bundled myself up in long sleeves, stockings, and a capelet for a daytrip with the Chef.
