Nothing says September like the sky darkening on the evening trip home - that and the 'brrrr!' in the air - though the trees don't seem to know summer is over yet; they are still green and hanging on to their leaves. Sleep didn't want to come last night and as I lay there, trying to decide if it was the green tea I'd had too late in the afternoon or possibly going to see Rush (a film that, arguably, is to men what The Devil Wears Prada is to women) in the evening, I realised that I was cold. Blanket over the head, knees drawn up to chest, muscles tight cold. I finally gave in and contributed to the British Gas shareholders' dividends. Wasted too much time freezing as a teenager in an unheated house to add a sleepless night to the tally and magically fell asleep as the room warmed up. So, winter, I am bracing myself for your arrival, but not yet convinced I will welcome you.