Remember, Remember The Start of November...

The clocks went back on Saturday. I got an extra hour in bed on Sunday and contracted an extremely sore throat that looks like spilling over into full blown bacterial infection of the trachea. In short, Winter has arrived. My warderobe has been altered accordingly. Heavy corduroy shirts and boots replaced the more laissez faire t shirts and sneakers. My facial hair growth becomes less frequently addressed and my haircut interval wider by a few weeks as I slip into a more hibernatory state.

My diet becomes more sloppy. Stews, soups, chilli's and ghoulash replace the more summery 'dry' food. Tea replaces beer for November just to add to the overall mood of depression. It's dark on the drive home and Bob Dylan's "Theme Time Radio Hour" serves as the soundtrack for the journey as he delves into older, darker, more mysterious times.

It rains every other day.

The Champions League approaches the end of the preliminary group stage as night time games start to feature gloved Mediterraneans traveling to away games in Sofia.

Tissues become a necessary item in the glove box.

I start to read more as more time gets spent indoors. I sleep less because my body knows not what time of night it is once the clock strikes 6pm and the Angelus fills me with more anger than usual.

It rains every other day.

To compensate us for perseverance, the month of December follows black November, when everyone goes on a holiday from their sanity for nearly a month. The reason for this is clearly because November has robbed us of any sanity or sense of purpose.

The heating timer is adjusted daily towards ever earlying hours.

It rains every other day.