Shades of Autumn
Autumn’s really here now. The trees are the colour of flames; the air feels cold when I wake up in the morning; helicopter seeds spin to the ground in flurries; soup’s back on the menu at the café near work. And I can no longer wear light colours.
Most of these are universal signs of the changing season but my guess is that the last one is unique to me and here’s the reason why:
This morning I’d worn a lilac jumper to work. This evening, back home having a cup of tea with Fran and Will, conversation turned to my grubby front. There was a clearly-defined patch of damp dirt round the middle of my breastbone.
It wasn’t that I’d spilt my tea or got lunch down my jumper – it is the spot I hit whenever I thump my chest, something I do hundreds of times a day. Now that the ground is wet and muddy my gloves get dirty and this is what leaves the grubby mark.
We all agreed it was time to put the lilac jumper to the back of the wardrobe. I’ll be rocking dark colours from now on, until the spring.