It’s early.  A pigeon coos loudly outside my open window, bringing me to some level of consciousness.  As I struggle to open my sleepy eyes, I nestle under the warm covers and my mind slowly wanders from dream to practical thoughts about the day ahead.  I remember that I’ll be going into town later this morning, which spurs me into sudden movement and with hardly a second thought, I throw back the covers.  Shivering in the chill air, I put on some woolly socks beautifully knitted by my aunt, and shuffle over to the kitchen across the hall to boil the kettle and pop some bread in the toaster.

On returning to my room to eat my breakfast, I make up a short list of all that needs to be done today.

From the top floor window of the guest house where I am staying, I can see stately red and yellow brick houses on the other side of the street.  In my immediate view the branches of a large honey locust stretch out into the morning sky.  Having already shed most of its leaves, the remaining few dance bravely in the light winter breeze, still resplendent in their autumnal yellows, ochres and oranges.  An equally bright morning sun is rising against the clear late November sky.  I'm so enjoying the last of this autumn foliage and begin to realise how much I've missed trees and walking through fallen leaves, which is something of a rarity in the wild coastal landscapes of Caithness that I now call home. I gaze out of the window drinking it all in. The pigeon happily sits on its branch. Its calls are welcoming in the morning.

A bell begins to toll somewhere in the distance, along with the discordant sounds of a siren racing off to who knows where.  The world is waking up.  Sitting still for a moment longer, I watch the sun casting a shaft of light across my room, filling it with warmth.

It’s so good to be in the city again, especially here in beautiful, historic Oxford.  I gulp down the rest of my coffee, quickly dress and head out the door, eager to take in all this beautiful place has to offer.

Heading down two flights of stairs I push open the large wooden door to the outside and I’m hit by a cold blast of fresh air. I breath it in deeply and head my way down the street, towards Banbury Road and the town centre. Crunchy autumn leaves and long yellow pine needles are strewn across the walkway, and people are beginning to emerge from their homes. One lady sweeps the leaves from her porch.  A man dressed in a navy pin stripe and holding a brief-case strides to his shiny car busily pressing buttons on his keys.  The indicators flash and the car beeps as it unlocks.  He hops into the front seat slamming the door behind him and starts the engine.  Smoke billows from the rear exhaust and rises up into the crisp air.

I notice the white frost covering the edges of stone walkways, silver outlines the leaves, trees and houses, emphasising their shapes which glisten in the morning sun.

As I step into the main road, cars whiz past and I continue my walk towards the town centre.  It is a 20- minute trek at least, but I don’t mind.  I take in the late autumn sights and smells of this new environment.  A student pedals past me on her bicycle, her books filling a basket at the back. She wobbles slightly and maintains her balance on the road. Another bell tolls low in the distance and an elderly man walks slowly along the sidewalk, stopping at various points for his dog who shows an extreme interest in nearly all of the bushes along the way.

Eventually the light yellow stone buildings, spires and domes of old Oxford appear before me.  What a place!  Leaves continue to flutter across the street as people walk...

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