I can never understand people who claim to look forward to Spring. Or Summer for that matter. I mean, can you think of two seasons more guaranteed to disappoint?

Hell, if I could avoid these so-called ‘brighter’ months – the same way I currently avoid ‘Quiet’ carriages on trains – I would, because both are brimming with the prospect for bitter disappointment.

Look, get on a train and sit in the ‘Quiet’ zone and you just know some moron is going to ruin your trip by using their mobile.

Which means that instead of the calm and tranquil trip you were promised, the rest of your train ride is spent stressing out over just what level of retaliation – in a court of law at least – would be deemed ‘appropriate’ (ie, using your cattle prod, approaching them yourself, ‘squealing’ to the train manager, praying someone else will play the good citizen or just fuming all the way to Paddington).

On the other hand, had you simply sat in one of the normal, ‘anything goes’ carriages, you’d have been prepared for the worst all along.

In this exact-same vein, Spring and Summer always fail to deliver too, leaving eagerly-anticipated plans such as a picnic or breakfast on the patio dogged by feelings of frustration and inadequacy as once again you sense the world – or at least its climate – has ‘robbed’ you.

As such, when I hear people whinge on about the onslaught of October and November and the dark days of Winter ahead, I can’t help but wonder what cuckoo planet they live on? For the months of April through to September are little more than a catalogue of missed opportunities (rained-out barbecues) and cheap travesties (wet and windy weddings).

Which is precisely why Autumn –- or the ‘Fall’ as Americans most eloquently describe it – is my favourite time of year; because of its wonderful crisp mornings and evenings of scarlet reds, but also – and certainly more importantly – because of its chill winds, fine rains and stormy nights.

Meaning, that this is one thing in life you CAN rely on... or your money back.

So hey, relax, and do what I’m doing right now, walking into work, then home again along roads and walkways that do uphold this season’s promise.

It matters little to me that it takes an extra quarter hour; better that than stick to the High Street as I usually do, head down and rushing, when a simple, sideways step of just a hundred yards transports me into a cinematic freeze-frame worthy of any Sherlock Holmes or Harry Potter movie.

For instance, the walk down Blue Boar Street (just along from the Guildhall), Bear Lane, Oriel Square and down into Merton Street before rejoining the High Street across from Longwall Street is one of the most beautiful in Britain, let alone Oxford.

As too is a wander down Broad Street, taking a right into Catte Street, a left into New College Lane (becoming Queen’s Lane), and back onto the High Street again opposite the Grand Cafe.

These mini-adventures are like stepping off the world, yet both are within five minutes of McDonald’s. And that’s highly appropriate since, like Autumn, a Quarter Pounder with medium fries is something you can always bet the farm on...