Let it rain and rain.

Let it rain and rain.

You must have known it was coming. On the first day of October it was almost destined to happen. The last time we saw as much rain as today was back in June when it did nothing but. The truth is that after another dry summer, it's time to batten down the hatches, grab a duvet, turn on the central heating, close the garden or balcony doors, come inside from the rain and just accept the passing seasons.

Most of July, August and September were moderately warm so we shouldn't really grumble and quibble. In fact during July there were a couple of days when a heatwave took the temperatures soaring into the high 90s but then it all came crashing down around our ears with intermittent showers and grey skies leaking tentative drops of the wet stuff. Then those same skies darkened yet again threatening precipitation then changing their mind because it simply felt like doing so.

Here in Britain we love talking about the weather and once again you feel almost duty bound to report on the latest developments on this enchanted isle. This is England after all and this almost hard wired obsession or just charming preoccupation continues to dominate our everyday conversation whether we like it or not. We tell our neighbours about the weather, we comment upon it to perfect strangers and the dialogue goes on and on until some of us just laugh at the ridiculous absurdity of it all.

As evening approaches here in North London several flashes of lightning and claps of thunder have added that dramatic quality to the British weather that we all privately look forward to anyway. Heavy downpours and more showers are now the order of the day and quite possibly the whole of October. It's best not to think in negative terms in case the heavens just open and it just keeps raining ad infinitum. Few of us really like rain and yet if we can re-frame our thinking maybe we can see the upside of all this gloom and doom. We don't care if the weather man says it's raining you'll never hear me complaining. Besides, the farmers love the rain because it's good for the crops and that's inarguable.

October is indeed with us and those trusty cliches can be dragged out of the cupboard again. There are the autumnal mists and mellow fruitfulness, the yellowing leaves crackling and snapping, gathering together in a private conference, the whistling winds intensifying in strength by the day, trees shaking, bowing, swaying from side to side as if not entirely sure what winter will bring.

On the first day of October there is a brooding melancholy about this early autumn day, thick black and grey clouds forever scudding, drifting and hovering above us, hinting at full blooded storms and then growling like a grizzly bear. This may be the last time our lawnmowers make the acquaintance of our garden because the shed is exactly where they're going. The shears and secateurs are heading back into that dark corner of our shed where a winter hibernation awaits.

We've tended our summer flower beds with consistent tenderness, pruned the roses, cut back the branches on our trees and then devoted most of the rest of our time to our allotment sites where the cabbages and rhubarbs provide us with our wintry tea time comforts. It's time to get out our rain coats, to don the wellington boots, traipsing around gleefully in the cloying mud, watching the children jump up and down in the puddles and then abandoning ourselves to Paul McCartney's inclement weather.

Down by the seaside, those fish and chip shops and souvenir shops, for so long the centre of so much prosperity are beginning to wind down for the year. The amusement arcades are still flashing, buzzing and throbbing with life but the reality is that at some point during the depths of winter the seaside resorts of Britain will become ghost towns, dreary and blustery, wind-swept by even more ferocious gale force winds. Then the winds will whip up again boisterously and uproariously as if determined to cause a major stir.

The roofs and slates of Britain, for so long exposed to soothing summer breezes and frequent summer heat are now shivering ever so slightly. Gutters are dripping with increasing regularity, the pavements now darker with more and more showery rain. Umbrellas are receiving their first airing of the year and there is a growing recognition that colder days lie ahead. But not yet surely.

The change of seasons is upon us, that transitional point of the year when we know that our bodies will have to get used to something different. Once summer has vanished into the distance and those summer holiday planes have made their last joyful journey to warmer climes, the sense of early and and darker evenings becomes a chastening reality. At four in the afternoon the day will cease operations and it'll feel like midnight by five in the afternoon. Cheer up though it'll be spring before you know it.

Still, autumn has posted its first announcements and the people who once took their leisure in the summer sun are now racing for the bus stops and railway stations in a frantic effort to get out of the teeming, slanting rain. Papers over their heads, collars pulled up to their shoulders, they hop, skip and bound fearlessly towards their destination as if the sky were about to fall over their heads. Then faces matted with wetness, coat hoods completely soaked and spirits drowned, they wave their arms about aimlessly and curse profanely.

So it is that  we resign ourselves to the impending winter and those pitifully bare branches hanging by once decoratively pink and red cherry blossom trees are now temporarily without colour. But they'll be back prettier than ever, cooler than ever, ready to illuminate our lives once again. Yes folks, autumn has arrived and there has to be an air of resignation because, let's face it, there's nothing you can do about it. Has anybody seen the Scrabble box? Oh, there it is.