THE AUTUMN OF THE LAST CENTURY

I stood there for a moment, lost in a memory. A gentle breeze rustled the trees and disturbed the golden path in front of me. Dappled shadows fell gently across the crispy leaves of Autumn.

The memory was old. I was kicking leaves through Sainsbury's car park with my friend Jacqui. She thought it was a funny thing for two newly enrolled Second-Years to do. I was less stuffy in those days I guess. She was just one of those people who couldn't care what anybody thought.

How has the season changed so suddenly? Summer blinked, it rained for a few days, and now it's Autumn again - silken spider webs, cool blue skies and long shadows on glittering grass. I'm not complaining.

Seasons do have a habit of changing without warning. You look around you and realise that everything is the same, but sort of different - changing while you watch. It isn't anything you can stop. It is how it happens.

Jacqui lives in San Diego now. At least she did in the days of Friends Reunited and I've lost touch since. That's how long ago university was - not just pre-fakebook but pre-Friends-Reunited! Her and I were kicking leaves about in that supermarket car park, in the Autumn of the last century.

I walked along the path and scuffed the leaves, this year's leaves, with my trainers. Crunch, swish, crackle, shuffle they went underfoot - a tiny tide of yellow, crispy remnants of a leafy green summer. No less beautiful, I suppose. Just different.