Winter Comes

The wind howls around the corridors, nibbling at the office workers.
The stripy jumper is fetched from the back of the wardrobe.
The puddles glint, and the bicycle takes corners more slowly instead of being flung around them with gay abandon.
The latest Silly Hat Trend appears upon the heads of students, and at the stall that sells Smelly Balls outside the Northumberland Street branch of Dixons.
Hat and gloves become an automatic reflex, and Doc Martens cease to peep shyly from beneath the bed, and stomp merrily about the streets, insulating their owners’ feet.
Christmas decorations cease to become a source of vague it’s-too-damn-early-we’ve-not-even-had-Halloween-yet irritation, and instead a reminder of joys to come.
Hot chocolate becomes a necessity not a luxury.
Women don their skimpiest clothing for going out at the coldest time of the year.
The populace scoff currywurst and slurp mulled wine whilst contemplating buying a sponge soap and a trapper’s hat from the Continental market.
Marks and Spencers devotes its attention to fattening the populace now, that it may sell them diet ready meals in the New Year.
Winter comes to Newcastle.