When the seasons change, I hope for a balloon that will reflect it. When it snows I crave the snowbound, in summer I desire them atop sharp deep shadows and when it's spring I want, I dunno, crocuses or daffodils or something. Anyway, in autumn, this is pretty much the ideal shot. I leapt.
I was on a Sunday morning stroll westwards along the river, my first Sunday stroll for a while, and they've served me well before. This time, oddly like the last, London was submerged beneath fog, so dense that for much of our amble the opposite riverbank was invisible. But the sun came out for this and for lunch, and illuminated balloon, leaves and a tasty pie. We stayed in the pub all afternoon while the fog descended again, and left to haloed streetlights, giggling and car crashes.
