If this afternoon I'd just returned from some inter-galatic mission having being months adrift in time and space, my first thought on opening the door of my space craft would be 'Hmm, November'.
I am seriously minded of those dreary afternoons wasted on school hockey pitches; two teams tussling at the far end of a sodden field, lumpen grey shapes groping through a grey blanket of fog, woolly and wet. And me, leaning against the goal post (I was a goal keeper) blowing on my freezing fingers and praying, praying, praying fervently that this interminable afternoon would come to an end. See how this teenage experience haunts my adult life.
But it is nearly April for Heaven's sake. It has been like this for four days now - chill cold air trapped under low grey clouds. This is not the way it should be.
I am going to take comfort in a glass of wine in front of a log fire. Perhaps the weather gods will smile on us tomorrow.