Every year at about this time, the same thing happens; I get colder and confused. I end up sitting around trying to figure out for myself which way the clocks go. It gets lighter later so does that mean I set the clocks forward? And it gets darker earlier so that must mean I set the clocks backwards? Perhaps some of you got it instantly, but for me it can be like trying to understand time travel.

The clocks have just gone back. The first time I experienced this Northern hemisphere phenomenon my system went into a state of shock and shutdown. I felt like a huge, black cloak had suddenly been thrown over my world. I felt suffocated and hibernated for a month. You're sitting at work and all of a sudden it's 4pm, pitch black and you realise that summer ? which didn't really happen in the first place ? is over for the next eight months. We of boerewors and braaivleis dreams don't deal with it very well. That is until you start liking winter. Yes, for the first time I'm excited about it all.

I love nostalgic autumn days. Sitting in the park in bright but ineffective sunshine. Watching the leaves fall from the trees and lay a golden, crunchy carpet that makes you want a bowl of Kellogg?s Corn flakes. It's all very cosy; big coated old ladies walking their dogs, young couples going for a romantic strolls and children riding their bmx's around man-made hillocks.

I like putting on my winter coat for the first time and finding what I left in my pockets before summer arrived. This year I had an old ticket to a Massive Attack concert, rizla papers, a lighter and an empty box of cigarettes. That was a great night out. I think there may have even been a few pounds clanging around.

I love the sudden burst of energy that is injected into London's veins as the city suddenly becomes transformed into a concrete Christmas tree. Millions of people hustle from houses to pubs to bars and clubs to keep themselves entertained on this wintry island. Christmas lights cast a fluorescent glow over the streets and black cabs ? like moving oil slicks ? are filled with rosy faces poking out from colourful scarves. The tubes are still hot and uncomfortable but some things just never change.

And who couldn't love the football. I was never really a big fan, but am finally starting to appreciate this great saviour of all British men. As a friend of mine once said, "without footie England would be a bit sh*t". If you live here you need to take an interest. It's exciting and controversial and fuelled by celebrity, sporting brilliance, fierce opinions and patriotic allegiances. It forms friendships. It is the beautiful game.

It?s not really deep winter yet, but I think this time around I?ve got the right attitude. Positive. A ray of sunshine in a land devoid of natural light. Besides, the summers are always rubbish, and if they're good, it?s just too damn hot. Welcome to winter. Glad you could make it.