THE AUTUMN SWITCH

Someone's flicked on the Autumn switch. Rain tumbles from smoke-coloured clouds, the paths are carpeted in soggy leaves and the air is damp and cold.

I'm back to work, where everybody seems to exist in a kind of suspended misery. I looked around during today's scrum meeting to try to figure out how people were feeling. You can tell a lot from body language. Eyes down, arms folded, one or two yawns. Monday, and: the Autumn switch is on.

Outside, the lake was rippling with rain and droplets were racing down the window. I stared out for a while as the team talked about builds and servers, about continuous integration and performance testing. Same old same olds. Just beyond the thin pane of glass was a world where everything was moving. Trees swayed as the wind swept by, leaves danced in swirls and eddies, and the rain fell silently to earth. The ducks and geese waddled and swam, and even the swans floated past like royal barges surveying their subjects. It was all much more interesting on that side of the glass, I thought to myself.

"Welcome back, Matt," said Andrea, bringing my thoughts suddenly into the room. I glanced down at my notebook and reminded myself what I'm supposed to be doing before reporting it to the team. It turned out that she meant welcome back from being ill rather than from daydreaming.

I've often wondered whether four seasons are enough to describe our weather. For example, Autumn seems to be either glorious blue with golden leaves, spider webs and long shadows on the grass... or rain-soaked, soggy and overcast.

Spring too seems to be split into the heady days of fresh-cut grass and warm sun... and then blossoming hayfever, rainbows and those short sharp showers that nobody seemed to have been expecting. You could argue that there are two types of winter as well: before Christmas it's sort of mild and dry, maybe even a little too warm for Christmas shopping. Then, as soon as January comes along it seems that the cold wind picks up and you can't leave the house without gloves, scarves and an extra pair of socks. It's not long before that cold wind drags in sleet and freezing snow and we're all going on about how inconvenient/exciting it is.

So that's at least seven seasons: Harvest, Autumn, Advent, Winter, Spring, Early Summer and Summer. I think even Summer could be split into Summer and The Rainy Season. I guess that would mean eight switches in total. Maybe even nine, if you count the Indian Summer we always go on about every October.

Actually, that's next isn't it? Right, could we switch into that one please God? It's not that I don't like watching the Autumn rain or waxing lyrical about the falling leaves...

It's more that I've got to walk home for lunch.