It's finally turning cold, with a heavy sleet shower today, however this November has been weirdly warm. The other day I was standing outside without a coat enjoying the sunshine. Roses are trying to bloom, and farmers report late harvests of berries. By now insects should be dead or hibernating but a repulsive blow fly keeps buzzing round my sitting room, settling on anything edible. I look up and see it crawling on the rim of my wine glass or a piece of chocolate. I've gone after it with a copy of Private Eye and it always escapes.
The conversations I've been having with taxi drivers are about the unseasonable mildness contrasting to the thick snow this time last year.