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Sometimes, the supposedly straightforward parts of my job prove to be the most tricky. Like, for example, writing a simple weather headline for my TV bulletins.

Take this morning. I start the shift pondering the best words to describe today's weather (we can use a maximum of 6) . And there's no visual cue outside either; it's just before 4 am and pitch-dark here in . But it's mild and it's dry. So there's an early hint, at least.

I should explain that wording the headline of our is a task left to each Ö÷²¥´óÐã weather presenter, but by no means thumb-in-sky guesswork. We base it around the detailed briefings we receive throughout the day from our Met Office colleagues.

Sometimes, wording the headline is easy enough. Yesterday, the weather story was one of warm sunshine and totally dry conditions. "Sunny spells & dry" summed it all up wherever you were in the West Country. Today, by contrast, is a little bit of a forecasting pain, especially when trying to localise the conditions expected across such a varied region as ours.

It's 5.15am and I chat things through on the 'phone in a conference briefing with , our Duty Forecaster this morning at Ö÷²¥´óÐã Weather Centre.

Cloudy for most; a bit of brightness for others; light winds everywhere; maybe even a spot of drizzle but generally dry.Ìý So I opt for three headline words: 'Mild; bright spells."Ìý That should do nicely, says Sarah. "After all," I suggest to her, "let's not worry about a spot of drizzle on an otherwise dry day, eh?"

6.30am - and I'm in front of the camera telling viewers it's a dry start across the region; albeit perhaps a spot of drizzle falling later in Somerset.Ìý Perhaps. I don't want to overblow it, because for most, it'll remain totally dry.

7.10am - and today's first live forecast on ' Breakfast Show for . A glance at my weather system confirms dry conditions at the local weather observation stations; dry conditions on the rainfall radar; dry conditions on the traffic cameras.

"It's a dry start out there...," I confidently tell Mark.

Ah - but there's drizzle just up the road in , a listener has just told him.

Well, that's just typical. Courtesy of the vagaries of British weather, nothing in my job is ever really straightforward. Forecasting truly local weather is an evolving science,Ìý but we still get it right most of the time!

I'm back on ourÌýearly shift this morning and we've been discussing the topic of 'Indian Summers' here on local radio Breakfast shows.

OK, so I'm a pedant, but by strict definition we're not (yet) seeing an Indian Summer.Ìý But for sure, a prolonged spell of largely dry, warm weather and one looking set to continue for a few more days.

In fact, some of our local weather-watchers in Gloucestershire reckon we're already at a tally of 25 dry (or almost dry) days recently. I'm betting this will extend to 30 days for many districts across the West Country as high pressure continues to dominate our regional weather scene.

As for an Indian Summer: the definitions admittedly vary and are somewhat elastic, but for most of us weatherfolk, the term is reserved for an unseasonally warm, dry spell of weather in mid to late Autumn; i.e., after all the leaves have turned and after the first hints of colder conditions - including frosts - make their mark.

You might well wonder where the term Indian Summer originated. Again, some varied opinions exist on this one, but you can read an interesting . In the 20th century, the phrase became widespread this side of the Atlantic, replacing the traditional ' terminology of Old English, which actually I still prefer.

However, I guess if I spoke of a 'St Martin's Summer' on our local radio stations, most listeners would be mystified.Ìý I wonder how many people have heard this term before?

Wow. Weren't those , as swirls of red Outback dust enshrouded the city? It was like some special effects from an Armageddon sci-fi blockbuster. I almost expected The Terminator to appear from the gloom.

It's not the first time Australian cities have experienced this sort of dramatic weather. Back in February 1983, it was , blown-in from the parched interior of Victoria. Much like this week's event, the prevailing weather was one of prolonged drought in parts of Australia: devastating wildfires followed the dust storm and again, much like now, a wide-scale was underway in the Pacific Ocean, bringing profound change to the region's climate. Ìý

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The smaller-scale mechanism bringing such drama varies. Sometimes, it's the passage of a 'dry' cold front, carrying the dust aloft as it moves across the landscape; at other times, the urban sandblasting comes courtesy of thunderstorms, as powerful outflow of winds whips-up the parched landscape into an ominous approaching wall of dust.

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Here in Britain, the only time we see tend to see our streets as red as Sydney's is when Man Utd parade yet another premiership trophy (i.e., almost annually in recent years).

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But we also get our share of desert dust, too. And it's quite likely you've seen it.

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In fact, I can think of a number of occasions in the past decade when - often after a spell of overnight summer showers - - I've discovered my car windscreen, roof and bonnet covered in a fine film of curious fine dust, ranging in colour from a light grey-yellow to almost ochre-red.

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It's been carried here all the way from the Sahara - originating in parched dustbowl regions, such as southern Algeria, Mauritania, the Bodélé depression in Chad, and elsewhere.

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Sometimes, this all gets blown westward off the Sahara and out over the Atlantic, where vast quantities - estimated at around 500 million tonnes a year - . Some of it journeys even further afield. Around 40 million tonnes of dust blows out of Chad each year, all the way across .

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Once over the Atlantic, the Saharan dust can get caught-up in the train of depressions running back towards the British Isles, blowing it all eastwards again to be later deposited onto our streets.

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More often however, the dust is carried fairly directly - on a warm southerly flow, straight up from Northwest Africa, across Spain and France at about 10,000ft altitude, and then washed-out over the British landscape in showers. If the showers are especially heavy however, the evidence tends to be washed-away as soon as it settles.

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But cleaning it off our cars is a mild repercussion of this amazing process. It could deliver far more potent effects to our shores.

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Some scientists hypothesized that the costly outbreak of Foot and Mouth in the UK during February 2001 . Not proven, but a viable theory, for sure: the potential for nasty micro-organisms to be transported across vast distances in swirling dust is .

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Maybe Sydney's Armageddon scenes aren't quite so removed from flights of Hollywood sci-fi fantasy after all...

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Well, I'm back on the early shifts here at Ö÷²¥´óÐã West after a two-week absence and quite honestly, there was something rather welcoming and familiar about the 3Ìýa.m.Ìýalarm call and my almost regimented preparations for work. Perhaps it was our omnipresent cat, Pickle, trying new tactics to trip me over as I descended darkened stairs; or the familiar torch-like glow of fox eyes, foraging amongst the dustbins and urban clutter of a sleeping Bristol as I drove into work.

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And talking of glow, I'll keep eyes-to-the-sky in the early hours of tomorrow, for sure.

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Because not only are we officially into Autumn (the Autumnal Equinox being this evening, at 9.18 p.m.), but also in a prime position to view a phenomenon called the .

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You've probably heard it by a more familiar term: the False Dawn. The name has described by theÌýProphet Muhammed.

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Granted, you need to be well away from light pollution to spot it - which, combined with our forecast of some patchy cloud, might spoil my own viewing experience here in the wee hours of Wednesday. Plus staring at the sky while driving at night is hardly recommended.

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But it's unmissable, if you have the chance to view it (and a penchant for setting the alarm clock about 1hr before sunrise). Especially as there's no moon tonight to floodlight the night sky.

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Often mistaken for the first hint of true sunrise - hence 'false dawn' - the Zodiacal Light is a triangular whitish glow visible on the eastern horizon in Autumn, embedding the bright points of Venus and, to a lesser extent Mars, in a rather ghostly display that has its origins at the very genesis of our amazing planet.

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It's caused as sunlight bounces-off myriad particles of - all some 4 billion years old - formed as our solar system and planets first took shape. A genuine look back in time.

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I'm in the camp of opinion that this summer's weatherÌýwas nowhere near as bad as some folkÌýbemoaned, but nonethless, I confess to escaping our temperate climes for a fortnight's holiday abroad.Ìý

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After recently snorkelling and free-diving on the beautiful reefs of Egypt's Sinai Peninsula, I've been ponderingÌýthe true environmental cost as weÌýjet away to dodgeÌýthe vagaries of the British climate.

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And yes: I feel somewhat guilty. And that's despite the resultant tan and underwater photos of over one hundred species of fish.

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Ok, so here's the guilt-trip: Ìýfirstly there's the carbon 'footprint' issue of taking the taxi to the airport; then the 6-hrÌý'plane journey; the coach at the destination; and running the hotel room aircon as desired, day and night......Ìý all potentially adding to mankind's key role (at least according to scientific consensus)Ìýtowards our .

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And allÌýputting pressure on coral reefs across the globe - including those I was there to enjoy - before I even put a toe into the water.

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Climate change is the major current threat to reefs, according to the , and the most serious consequence being a highly destructive phenomenon termed .Ìý

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But I was really struck by how displacing ourselves fromÌýthe BritishÌýweatherÌýwreaks much more immediateÌýdestruction for reefs.Ìý And it made depressing viewing, armed with a facemask and peering beneath the Red Sea's azure waters.

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Holidaymakers flock to the sun-kissed Sinai every month, bringing increased footfall - quite literally - across its delicate coral.

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I witnessed and photographed acts of mindless marine vandalism: large sections of pristine corals - growing for decades - sent tumbling down the reef face in an instant, as tourists trampled about, their feet (and flippers)Ìýoften set-down with complete lack of care.

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Whereas I (and the majority, in fairness) behaved as if tip-toeingÌýacross someone's wonderfully-laid flowerbed; others, it seems, acted as if they were trampling a ploughed field in wellies.

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And all this in one of Egypt's foremost Marine Parks, where such behaviour carries a risk of hefty fines. I wondered how our nation would react if holidaymakers roamed the New Forest armed with chainsaws.

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Whether from the coral bleaching of global warming, or wrecking from increased tourism, the world's reefs are paying a heavy price as a result of climate change and our jet-set desire for climate 'evasion'. It's estimated around 20% of coral reefs have already been lost.

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A statistic worth thinking about, if - like me - you are fortunate enough to escape our shores and snorkel amongst these majestic seascapes.Ìý