I live in Kent, The Garden Of England. And Autumn hasn’t yet come by here. It’s biding its time, waiting. And all of us are waiting back. All of us who long for the the season of browns, golds and berry. Us folk, who simply prefer forrest walks, crunching through fallen, crispy leaves as the chill that hangs in the air surrounds us. Us who have waited for the scent of suncream to fade into the memories of ‘the summer just gone’. Us who are desperate to pack away the sandals and say goodbye to the sunshine so that us, the typically British, can get on with starting to miss it, instantly. But I think I saw it… Last night! I think I felt it brush past me as I was walking home. I pulled my burnt, orange cardigan closer to me and watched it dance with the leaves, as…

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