Not Autumn Yet

I know I'll open my curtains and it won't be autumn, but here in the 9:27am gloom, I imagine it is out there. One of those kind autumn days, warm and daydreamy, when the best thing to do would be to catch the train to London, find a quiet stretch of park, and pretend to read a book all day, while watching the sunlight fall with the leaves through that consolatory light that is peculiar to autumn.
It's not autumn though, and I have to go to work to take phone calls about financial products all day.
I went for a walk last night, after a luxurious day spent drawing and writing and reading, and drifting into slightly melancholic daydreams. It was a hot twilight, and began to rain as I left the house. The rain and the temperature made me feel unwell and uncomfortable, and the walk lasted only a little over an hour.
I watched that most autumnal of films Metroland again, and drew a place from childhood, a parking lot between the houses of Southside in Kinloss.
It still feels like all those old autumns are gathered at the door (and the window, at the still drawn curtains). I'll leave the house in half an hour, break the illusion and walk out into a summers day instead, albeit one of the last of summer days.
It's not autumn yet.