Ain’t no sunshine

Bill Withers was chuntering on about missing somebody.  I think (I haven’t checked the Guinness Book of Records) that the song holds the record for the most repeated phrase in history.   By my reckoning he sings “I know” 23 times in a row.   I know.   It is sad.  You can perhaps envision me, eyes closed, singing the song in my head and counting on my fingers.

The sunshine in West London has vanished.   I generally expect (I have some experience in this) summer to gradually blend into a cooler but still pleasant autumn and then for autumn to slowly turn down the heat so one gradually dons more clothes as each day passes.   This year it seems that somebody threw a switch on Monday evening and suddenly I’m dressed like an Alaskan (not Sarah Palin though, I’m thinking more rugged and fur wrapped).

I think I know what caused it.   This is obviously speculation and I wouldn’t dream of laying the blame squarely at the feet of any adults who I may share a house with so I will just lay out the facts and leave you to draw your own conclusions.

The temperature started dropping at 19:35 on Monday evening.   At 19:40 I received a phone call from my beloved.

“Hi.  I’m in an ambulance”.

I am sure that you will agree that whilst this is certainly an ice breaker when it comes to opening a conversation it isn’t necessarily what you want to hear when:

1. You’ve just poured your second glass of wine.
2. You are waiting for somebody else to cook your dinner.
3. You have just settled down to watch the end of the film you recorded the previous night.
4. It is your partner on the telephone.

I should add that the above list is not in order of importance at all.  Definitely not.

It seems that whilst out for an invigorating and healthy run there had been a tumble (no doubt caused by a stray leaf being in the wrong place at the wrong time) resulting in a trip to A&E and several stitches to repair a wound described as “Down to the bone” (not be me I hasten to add, it was a qualified medic who said that).

In retrospect I find it hard to believe that the tumble and the fall in temperature are not related.   My partner is of a naturally sunny disposition and I think that she watched her knee bleed she also subconsciously caused the temperature to drop by rightly being upset at not being able to get home in time to prepare our evening meal (I know I’m safe in saying this as she never reads the blog).

So now you know who might be to blame for winter arriving so suddenly.   Just in case,  I would like to apologise on behalf of my family for the rapid deterioration of the weather and offer my personal condolences to anyone who had planned the week off to tidy up the garden before it gets cold.

To be fair, I like the coming of the cold.   There is a crispness about the mornings (I’m always mentioning crisps in my blogs – My personal recommendation are Tyrell’s crisps, there’s a family link). I love the way my local park changes from a verdant wonderland to bleak and brittle.    I like the way toddlers are dressed up in warm clothes such that their shape changes to resemble a little round ball with rosy cheeks shining out.   I’m always a bit surprised that my wine tastes swing from from white to red and I much prefer the hearty stews and big tasting meat dishes to the slightly whimsical summer salads that I’ve been eating.    The curious thing is though that come April I shall be saying exactly the opposite and welcoming the coming summer with just as much anticipation.    I suppose that must mean that I am lucky to live somewhere with such varied seasons.

I suppose I should mention that the stitched knee is getting well again and will soon be able to help control the vacuum cleaner.

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