It is Fireworks Night, the night of the year when I most appreciate living on a big hill on one side of London and having a roof that you can get up on top of.

I think I've just seen more fireworks going off in half an hour than I've seen in the last few years put together, sitting on my roof with a scarf and a pipe and a glass of red wine: A thousand fiery tongues of the city licking into the night, drumming the air in their crazy rhythm.
Whoosh! Bang! Boom!


Winter is almost here.

Frost any day now.