Fall is, like any educated and sentimental chap, my favorite time of year. It is the perfect weather for thoughtful contemplation in front of a roaring fire, book in hand, whisky to the side. Man must reflect on himself and his place in this world as things die around him.
And with fall comes my second favorite thing, tweed.
I feel I may take up a pipe this autumn. I quit smoking years ago, nasty habit that it is. But I would like a pleasant aversion whilst gazing off in front of the hearth. Plus, no birdie can resist the smell of Virginia or Burley English Cavendish and old, leather bound books in the library.
