Jack Frost

It's cold. I mean really cold. There has been frost on the last two mornings and this has had some interesting effects. The first is on the trees. It's been a glorious Autumn. The mildness means that most trees still have their leaves, which have turned gold and red while still on the branches, an impressive display. Come this morning though, there was an interesting sight at the bottom of the road. One tree which, until yesterday still had all its summer foliage, had lost all of its leaves overnight. I mean there was an inch deep carpet of green beneath it in a perfect circle. It's as if the three just went 'fump!' and dropped its leaves the same way a drunk bloke drops his trousers and steps out of them and into bed after a night on the razz.

The other outcome of the cold mornings is that, as I stand in the early-morning cold on the station platform waiting for my train, I'm still sweating from my work out and notice a wisp of steam coming from my head. I'm actually steaming I'm so warm in contrast to the surrounding air. I look like a fag in a barbour jacket. Surely this can't be normal, people steaming? Nobody else seems to steam? Maybe they think I'm some sort of train enthusiast with a weird implant.