The end of October is by far the best time to be in Cambridge. You get flat and delicate mists in the morning that burn away to a sky of candescent seawater over the spires by afternoon. And the streets are thick with yellow leaves and yelling cyclists.
Which makes me sad that I'm leaving it. Only for a few months, mind. I don't have enough money coming in to continue living here. Not right now. So back to my mum's in Hampshire for what is half a rest-cure (open wood fire, warmth, food, good company, walks) and half a work-fest (big desk, broadband, a working telephone). With a once-a-week jaunt back up here to teach and see my friends.
So I'm finally packing up the house and hmm. But I am sure my mother will be delighted by the cased pike, the red deer antlers, the sets of gos feathers, piles of paper, book boxes, bags of frozen venison and computer cables that'll accompany my passage.