ON THE GRID - HOLIDAYS AND NOSTALGIC TRIGGERS

Heading into Zandvoort very early on Friday morning to avoid the traffic jams — and the demented cyclists dressed head-to-toe in Red Bull gear — I noticed a slight chill in the air and a gentle mist rising from the polders. Overhead, V-formations of geese were flying south, migrating like ageing New Yorkers heading to their winter homes in Florida. There was a sense that this was the start of a new school year, the end of summer — always a slightly melancholy moment. It’s that time of year that John Keats so perfectly described as the “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,” a time for reflection.