I appear to have become my brother’s blogger consultant. He’s just set up his own blog at automatic smile, and he was having trouble making it go. Five minutes of logging into blogger with his Uid and password, and it’s sorted. And he’s the one doing the multimedia degree. Sad, really.

There is no reason for this, other than the time of year. I define my time by music. Pick a period of my life, I can tell you what I was listening to. Pick an experience, I can tell you the tune that fits it. And for me, this is the autumn song. Oh, there are others, but this is the music of rain-slick streets and early winter magic, the one that I always come back to, year after year. I love this time of year.

That was a thoroughly pleasant weekend, but I’m now fairly solidly knackered, despite being spark out by 11 last night. Resisted buying the new Beautiful South album, but am now staring at Amazon.co.uk with a sinking feeling, with both the album and “Hawksmoor” by Peter Ackroyd sitting in my shopping basket, calling to me. Got “Hawksmoor” in there as a result of Marcia’s recommendation and my own interest in one of Britain’s maddest and most interesting historical architects. I’m also contemplating “London: A biography” by the same author, but I think I’ll wait for the paperback on that one.