SMOKE SIGNALS
I AM AN AUTUMNAL BEING. Spring bustin’ out all over does nothing for me. Come the balmy days of summer, I can be found fantasising about velvet and cashmere, willing not an Indian summer, but that first crisp catch within the air and the falling of leaves. For autumn brings the scent of bonfires: the cosy domestic hearth, the soothing smoulder of burning leaves and the heady rush of cordite.
