Mizzling.

I woke with a start this morning, partly due to the realisation that I was in fact already dreadfully late and partly due to our new found alarm clock that is St.George’s Church, just behind my house on the corner of Campden Hill Gardens which dutifully rings it’s bells in what seems to be no particular order at eight in the morning, midday and sometime around six.

From the moment I opened the blinds it was clear that the weather was going to be against  me all day, and as I walked out onto the balcony clutching my early morning dose of caffine it was became rapidly clear that it wasn’t just sheets of cloud flying across the sky above Trelick Tower on the horizon, but a fine drizzle was also starting to fall, the sort that can only be described as miserable drizzle; that stuff that soaks everything it comes into contact within mere seconds, which effectively  leaves you looking like a drowned rat for the whole day no matter what you try to do to dry off.

The only good thing weather wise was the cool stiff breeze, which was blowing the leaves around Campden Hill road in great swirling vortices, showing the first real sign of autumn taking hold that we’ve seen this year, as I strode out the flat I was a man on a mission, 30 odd photos needed sourcing, setting up, taking and finally processing – not the easiest of tasks when some of the things you’re taking photos of are entirely shrouded in cloud, and by the time I’d walked the familiar 400 yards from house to tube station I was utterly soaked; they say that the man with the weather has a sense of humour, if he does – it’s an evil one.

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