The chill of an autumn morning is not enough to prompt wearing a coat.
The birds singing don't appear hampered by the lack of special winter plumage.
A short sleeved shirt is all that is needed when walking briskly.
Mind you, the birds don't do much walking.
Briskly.
That makes it sound rather formal.
It's a walk, it's quick.
Briskly.
That feels pompous and overblown, like a collection of ill-matched words in a Tory leader's speech.
Brusque, filled with the air of meaning, when the reality is it's just full of air.
Perhaps it isn't just air.
I'm going to stop walking briskly.
I don't want even a vague interpretation of my bodily characteristics associated with those people and their weird values.
Even if that interpretation is only in my head.
Tomorrow my walk will be quick, not brisk, and have an international feel.
I may even choose to include some tango steps.
It will entertain me and be multicultural.
Here's a picture of the early morning sky, unfortunately it doesn't include the birdsong.
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