November

There's something about winter evenings in London, when Summer Time is gone. The dark is familiar, it's been there since afternoon, and the insides of shops and cafes hold promise. Mince pies appear everywhere, spangly lights and wool; and fireplaces in public houses crackle with possibility. Parties are planned, holidays are booked, and you remember with a smile that silly boy you snogged, without any mistletoe. The evening deepens, and even as you think - well it's night now - you realise the air's still a dark, bewitching, luminous blue.