The autumn has been so mild that we were caught by surprise at the touch of frost whitening the roofs and the cobblestones this morning. It was a hard frost that lingered ’til almost noon, and the temperature continues to hover crisply in the thirties in a breathlessly cloudless blue sky. Autumn, abruptly, has gotten serious.
The way to tell the weather outdoors in this city has little to do with a thermostat, especially since this place hasn’t got one. (Note to self: Add thermostat to home shopping list.) You can look out the windows from the warmth of your flat, and see smart young lads dressed in overcoats and ties, long-legged ladies in tunic sweaters, fuzzy boots and neon tights (and micro-micro minis, sometimes), and the downtown crowd bundled in gloves, wool scarves and berets. On the same stretch of Woodlands Rd., you can also find those clad in little more than thin cotton t-shirts and defiance. Judging whether you should layer two sweaters under your coat or one, based on what other people are wearing, is worse than useless. For us, the best thing to do is to look up.
Glasgow has several distilleries around the city, and many mornings, the slightly rancid smell of yeasts fermenting accompanies us on our errands. The distilleries are hardly noticeable on foggy, rainy mornings, but when it’s clear, the smokestacks stick out of the busy skyline — much like the refinery smokestacks do near our old house in Benicia. On mild, damp days, the steam from the distillery is lost in the other mists and ephemeral airs ; on cold days, it plumes straight up and stays close to the smokestack. Those days back home were few and in between, but here one learns quickly that the tight stream of steam means really low temps.
Among the classic images of the United Kingdom in the past have been double-decker buses and red phone booths. Police call boxes are another iconic image, claustrophobic little navy blue rectangles which served to protect the officer inside from the wind and give pedestrians a place to go when they needed help. There are a few boxes scattered in odd areas around the city and in Edinburgh that we see from time to time, and they capture the imaginations of tourists and Dr. Who fans, who can often be found posing next to them.
Downtown near the Enoch Street station the other night, we were amused to see that even the phone boxes have been updated. Instead of being a place to house a single officer on night patrol, they’re… information kiosks. Like a bizarre little ATM for police services, the new boxes have touch screen computers on the side, informing visitors to the city that if they’re going to walk in certain areas, they need to walk in groups, etc. It was kind of funny to observe the streams of people walking up to the boxes topped with their attractive blue lights and pushing the buttons on the touch screens like little kids with a new toy. Despite the fact that the boxes have the appearance of an ATM, they are going to be really useful. Now, instead of running to a police box to tell an officer that there’s trouble, you can merely touch a button and be hooked up with the 
dispatch — a lot more direct than a cell phone, and possibly a way to more easily connect people and services.
There’s a sense of easing here, now that the October of our discontent is over, and the December of our vacation is in sight. We’re compiling a list of people we need to see up and down the West Coast, and things we need to bring home and bring back. Projects are being wrapped up, and though T. receives at least two new books a day for the Cybils Award — and one day she received 13 all in one go, which seemed to astound the UPS guy — she’s actually still managing to find time to think and breathe and write, and to reach the conclusion of her work in progress (She’s well aware that she’s said this before, but to be within two chapters is a giddy, heady thing.) while balancing all the reading (all 137 books). Just don’t say anything to her about a.) vampires, b.) fairies, c.) faeries, d.) werewolves, e.) zombies, and you can still be friends. (Aliens, by the way, are still just fine.)
In between trying to resurrect his desire to knit, watching anime and digging out his silversmithing tools, D. is putting the finishing touches on his PhD surveys, and has purchased some tiny business cards to hand out to people to explain his project and direct them to his survey site. Hundreds of people will be needed for this, creating hours of work and statistics to correlate, but the sooner D. sinks his teeth into the work, the happier he will be.
Though it is actually a bit cold, the sun is shining. All is well in Hobbiton; Happy Week!