Day 329: How Small?

This morning is the first time this autumn that there's been frost on the car.  In line with this hint of winter, there are some dark intimations of what lies ahead.  There are already Christmas displays in the shops.  Not centre stage - that is currently reserved for Hallowe'en shit goods.  But in the wings, waiting to take over as soon as November arrives.  A bauble or two, casually positioned.  A small tree, subtly placed at the edge of your visiual field.  The odd shelf of mince pies.  It's a softening up process.  Get you accustomed, so you will accept the full onslaught without a murmur. 

Meanwhile, a man stands at the doorway of a capsule more than 128,000 feet high in the atmosphere, and pauses for a moment, before letting go and hurtling back down to earth faster than the speed of sound. 

'Sometimes you have to go up really high to understand how small you are.'  Felix Baumgartner.

Mince pie, anyone?