Author: Beth Brown

I woke up this morning, glanced at my rain-soaked window and immediately felt a little down. Yesterday had been full of sunshine and, as many of you will probably be able to relate to, the sun brings the happy factor.

But, as the nights grow longer and the rain becomes heavier, I have vowed to romanticise the (insert expletive) out of autumn and winter. You may think that I’m being extremely premature in preparing for Autumn, because yes, I am aware that it is still the only September. However, as much as I would love to live my summer dream (chatting to friends under the warm evening skies, hiking to quiet spots and swimming in lakes, picnicking under heavy sunlight, roaming around wearing a flowing dress, no shoes and a book in my hand, and stepping off the plane to that gust of dry heat that accompanies your first moment of holiday) I must, at some point, accept that a global pandemic has removed my ability to travel and go to large gatherings and the English weather has removed most of the feeling of summer anyhow. Therefore, I feel no remorse nor rashness for moving onto all that Autumn has to offer.

Romanticising life is one of my biggest tactics in battling the monotony and mundanity that can accompany everyday life, especially in the colder months. I want to spread the joy of this tactic with you, if this scenario doesn’t work for you, make up your own and keep it in the forefront of your mind as you open the curtains on those dull early mornings.

Picture this: its drizzling outside, you’re bundled up with a big coat and scarf on, trying not to get your bag wet. Across the road you spy a coffee shop with condensation on the windows and an orange glow filtering onto the pavement beside it. As you enter, there’s a burst of warmth upon your face and you shudder with a smile as the bell above the door tinkles to mark your entrance.


You’re inside, there’s a worn sofa that looks irrefutably comfortable in the corner of the room, next to the embers of the fire; it’s free and it’s your lucky day. As you shake off the residue of autumn drizzle from your coat and scarf and lay them on the sofa arm to dry, a waitress comes over to add another log to the fire, smiling at your thanks. The crackle of the log as the flames take hold encourages you to nestle further into the cushions. You check the chalk board behind the counter as the waitress pulls out her notepad and pen, there’s a multitude of pumpkin spiced drinks on special offer, a marker that signifies the colder months. You opt for your usual favourite with a slice of cake on the side. As you glance around the café properly you notice the smiling faces lit by the fairy-lights hanging above their heads, some are engaged in small talk, some are old friends catching up. There’s a woman typing profusely on her laptop nibbling the tip of her pen; an older man is deep in thought as he flips the page on the book in front of him, his coffee going cold as he becomes engrossed in his new favourite book.

You take a sip of your drink as the waitress sets it down, the froth forming a sweet moustache that no one notices but you lick off discreetly anyway; your journal’s still dry in your bag and your pen is tucked neatly in its pages. You alternate between scribbling down all that you are thankful for and nibbling on your slice of cake for a while until you’ve captured the moment and your cake is nothing but crumbs. As you watch a droplet of rainfall drip down the window outside you feel safe beside the glowing embers, tucked into the worn material of the sofa. You know you’ll have to venture back out eventually, perhaps after another drink, but it only makes you all the more excited to reach your final destination and experience that gust of warmth once more.

So you see, we must embrace the autumn drizzle as it allows for moments of cosy magic, just as we must try to embrace the rain in life in order to appreciate those moments of warmth. I know that it’s easier said than done and, when you’re in the middle of a rainstorm, it’s the hardest thing to think about the time when it was and will be dry again, but this mentality has helped me during my own times of drizzle and I hope that it can help you too.


So light that candle, grab your blanket and watch the rain dash down the window, embrace the rain for the warmth it can provide.

Until next time.

You can find more from Girl on Pause at or keep up to date with my attempts to romanticise every-day life on my Instagram: @girlonpause and my new Facebook page ‘Girl on Pause’.