I escaped as quickly as possible from the hectic city centre streets and drove past Comber to chill - which was very much the literal case - in more peaceful surroundings.
I was granted three November gifts. Out on the lough, in front of rolling pink clouds, a single swan fluttered down onto the reeds. Facing east, the colours were cool and dimming.
Facing west, hundreds of smaller birds congregated on the golden water, as the mountains behind reached up to darker streaks of cloud.
And within minutes, as I walked across the drumlins, the sun was blazing like garnets in its final bow behind the horizon.