Open Day

For the last few mornings the heating has been coming on; the leaves are turning brown and falling from the trees and the wind and rain have been almost constant. There's no arguing, the Summer, such as it was, is over and it's really Autumn now. 

Wilson and I were chatting idly about the recent poor weather when he suddenly asked me the date. When I told him, his face fell. 'Whatever's the matter?' I asked.

'My Grand Charity Garden Open Day!' he cried, 'Now it's Autumn, almost Winter, the garden is windswept and waterlogged, the flowers are dying and I've forgotten to hold my Grand Charity Garden Open Day! This is a calamity! I shall have to postpone it until next year!'