Well, if you divide the seasons into bundles of three months each- which is as good a way of reckoning as any- then tomorrow is the last day.
There's a chill in the air. The central heating has started turning itself on promiscuously and I've been shutting the doors behind me when I come in from the garden. Yesterday I told myself it was no good pretending anymore and I might as well put a body-warmer on.
Ailz says we could be in for a harsh winter. Just like 2010. "What happened in 2010?" I ask. And she says, "We were living in Oldham and a polar vortex came down and everything froze."
Oh, yes, I remember now. It got to be dangerous to walk to the shops and we were delivering groceries to Ailz's parents because we didn't want them leaving the house.
Oldham- highest town in England (or that's what it claims for itself)- is not a good place to be living when a vortex hits.
Or a pandemic. They had a spike a week or two back and the government slapped then back into partial lockdown.
This is the same government that is urging office workers to go back into their offices- and is reopening the schools...