Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close-bosom friend of the maturing sun…
Even in Johnstone, the foliage around Ludovic Square is still on the branch and busy with the business of brightening to orange and gold.
A few brave souls resist the season, defiant in open-toed sandals and t-shirts.
There are even a few remaining burgers and things-on-sticks on special next to the barbecues. Summer bouquets are still blooming outside the supermarket. And I haven’t had to scrape the car yet.
Yet nearby something awful is going on.
Men from the cooncil are putting up the Christmas lights. Today. 6 October. That’s 12 weeks until the big day and a full three months before they’ll be taken down again.
That means that Renfrewshire Council have their decorations up for a quarter of the year.
I know they probably won’t switch them on for, at least, another fortnight. It doesn’t matter – just because they aren’t lit, doesn’t mean they’re invisible.
I’m appalled. It’s the most shocking thing to happen to me today which is saying something on a day that England beat Australia at the rugby.
“Yet nearby something awful is going on. Men from the cooncil are putting up the Christmas lights.”Men from the cooncil!? These wouldn’t be the blackleg workers that my shop steward warned me about during the great switch off?Like, Anthony.