Weather report

Today is the first Saturday in November. I'm not at work because I have the 'flu/cold, I've been feeling pretty icky and bless her, Sachi our manager has rung twice to ask if she can take me to the hospital. I'm coming to the conclusion that riding out illness is not the done thing here, that you should go to the hospital/doctor at the first sign of illness. Still, its only been a few days, so I'm going all western and sleeping, drinking hot lemon, taking hot baths and trying not to think about letting our students down, or worse, making them take Multi-Media lessons.
Had I not been feel a bit grotty I would be enjoying the glorious sunshine and warm temperatures right now. Coming from a country where the seasons seem to have merged into one rather nondescript season, characterized only by a slight increase in temperature or marginally improved chance of snow, I find the seasons rather fascinating.
I always mark the beginning of winter by the time in which I can no longer wear flip flops. This was only two weeks ago (and for Katie only a couple of days ago - she was even less impressed with the necessary change of footwear than me, and I'm pretty anti-socks). Its still warm - I can go out without a sweater if its in the middle of the day.
Autumn is here though; it has crept up on us, quietly and gradually. So gradually that none of us really noticed until the socks appeared again. The air has lost its humidity, now it is crisp and fresh. It gets cool much earlier, we can leave the windows open for ventilation rather than having to keep them closed to help the efforts of the air conditioning. Last night I had to shut the windows because it was too cool. It's darker too - when I leave work at 5.40 we are into dusk; sepia toned sunlight (if we're lucky) and optional headlights. The rice has been harvested and the fields have been rotivated already, allowing time for the ground to rest until the next sowing of the seeds. And, typically Japanese, the fire engines' sirens can be heard more regularly. The dry spell of autumn is coupled with more house fires, and the fire brigade seems to be working nightly now. News of serious fires are transmitted by a loud siren; 1 drone for the all clear, 2 for fires nearby, 3 for ones far away. The wailing is disconcerting on a still, cool night and kind of heightens the drama of it all - a few times I've rushed outside, expecting to see half of Nakatsu ablaze, but I'm guessing the fire brigade just relish having some actual work to do (the last time I saw them, it was in March and they were cruising around halfheartedly reminding people not to set fire to things).