Mrs Turnstone has decreed that Autumn is near. Very few leaves have come off the trees, though many are looking ready to drop, once the weather gets that little bit colder. Nonetheless, she has declared that Sunday will see us sitting around the fire. It will be the feast of St Wenceslas, he who carried pine logs to the poor man by St Agnes’ Fountain. I don’t see any pine logs, but she has laid a good bed of pine cones, our favourite fire-lighters. Oh to be in England, now that Autumn’s here!