Tuesday, 20 September 2016

A Sudden Lack of Interest

What we said was, we'd have a midnight wait for autumn every day up to the 21st. Every day we'd play some autumny music (Autumngirlsoup by Kirsty, Forever Autumn by the pretty one out of the Moody Blues you know the kind of thing) and sit around surrounded by all the "autumn leaves" we'd created by drawing round our hands and feel all autumnal. You know, a bit melancholy but also a bit "oo isn't red and brown a nice palette" and a bit "nip in the air, nights drawing in, soon be Christmas." Everybody said it would be great. Everybody said they'd be there. Everybody said it would be brilliant.

So here I am.

In the Moot House.

On my own.

With a dry ice machine, a load of crappy "leaves" that look suspiciously like people's hands and Earth Wind and Fire's "September" on the PA.

Happy bloody autumn.


  1. Never mind. Read Keats's Ode on the subject.

  2. I always thought that Autum was the period between Winter and Winter.


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