Sigh: it's the time of year for Herself to tell me the trees are turning a glorious golden colour, then to ask me (for the N+1th time) whether I really can't tell. All I can say is that it's all green to me, and that I'm happy for her, and slightly green with envy at her superpower.

Occasionally I'll remind her of the urban legend that us colour-deficients were at a premium in The War as spotters, because we could see through some forms of camouflage. I'd be interested to know whether that was actually true.