Summer's end

I've just heard the Met Office person on the telly say that tomorrow marks the start of the meteorological autumn. I reckon I predicted this thing in a way: this evening when we sat down to dinner it was so dismal outside - cloudy, hint of rain, very gloomy - that I lit the candles that haven't been on during dinner since May at least. It seemed fitting that the summer flowers in the little vase are still there, but wilting slightly - the juxtaposition of fading summer and the lights for the dark evenings seems properly poignant.

It is also, of course, for the sharp-witted blipper, a blip of desperation after a day spent largely indoors - the supermarket and the dentist, to be precise. I shall hope for better tomorrow ...