AUTUMN is here. After months of balmy, even scorching temperatures, I am desperately seeking sweaters and hot water bottles. The nights are drawing in, and my thoughts are turning towards bed far earlier, like a hedgehog preparing for hibernation.

Then there’s the TV. Strictly Come Dancing looks a little different to its last incarnation, with three new presenters, several new dancers and a gaggle of contestants I’d struggle to pick out of an ID parade (“celebrity hairdresser”, anyone?).

And of course, the new series of Celebrity Traitors is well under way. As the saying once went: “Does my face look bovvered?”

I have never quite understood the fuss around the programme, the equivalent of televised wink murder, led by Claudia Winkleman clad in black and peering through a hood as well as her gravity-doomed fringe.

The high-octane activities, round table meetings and vicious plotting leave me completely cold. Maybe it’s because I consider twice-weekly instalments to be an onerous infringement on my precious and overstretched time.

Even so, I can quote vast tracts of the last two series – the Tom Daley side-eye, the “flabbergasted” Kate Garraway, the “cat amongst the pigeons” – because Daughter is a huge fan, and the Other Half (OH) tags along to make sure it’s suitable mid-teen viewing.

I, meanwhile, use this as a golden opportunity to squirrel myself away somewhere to do “Kirstie stuff”, which usually means “more work” (I can hear them both watching the latest episode as I write this).

Daughter loves it, and dissects the personal interplay with a depth Freud himself would be proud of. Listening to her theories about who hates whom and who is getting it all wrong is a bit like hearing all the gossip in the car at the end of a school day. She adores James Blunt, no so much Maya Jama.

As she’ll have to wait a few years herself, she often nags me and OH to apply to go on Traitors. He could certainly have a go, not least because he is without a doubt the most inscrutable of the three of us. Whenever we play Cluedo, he always looks at people’s cards and says: “Hmmm, I see!”, stroking his chin like Poirot in training.

I, on the other hand, have never managed to cultivate a poker face and have been known to actively beg friends not to tell me secrets, lest I blurt them out at the wrong time, to the wrong person.

I would probably last about five minutes before announcing to all and sundry: “I AM A TRAITOR!” Alas, I do not possess the intellectual façade of Richard E Grant to even try to pass it off as intentional (as it turned out, neither does he).

I mean, what kind of question is “are you a traitor or a faithful” anyway? Even as I wrote that sentence, I heard someone ask it again.

I wonder if Daughter would like to decorate her surroundings in advance of watching the hallowed show? This morning’s inbox offered the following delight: “Live like a traitor and transform your home into a castle.”

Apparently, “castlecore” is an aesthetic and lifestyle trend inspired by medieval times, focusing on gothic architecture, rich fabrics and ancient decor. It’s having a moment on Pinterest, especially when Traitors is streaming.

MyBuilder.com is the “knight in shining armour” to advise you how to achieve the look without losing essentials like clean water and electricity. Apparently interest in arches and stained glass has soared by up to 50 per cent in the past year, while demand for stonemasons has risen by almost seven per cent. Pass me the Yellow Pages (are they still a thing?).

I asked my colleagues if they were Traitors fans, or found it as meh as I did. Warren kept it brief: “I don’t watch it.” Aaron went into more enthusiastic detail about why he does. “As a child, I was always fascinated by the murder mystery, and I think that’s what the Traitors tapped into,” he explains.

“Also, those who participate in the ordinary series are fairly normal people – and unlike Love Island where it’s all a certain type of person, there’s a mix, and it’s fascinating to see how they get on. Where else would you find James Blunt, Joe Lycett, Julie Hesmondhalgh and Hannah Fry mentioned in the same sentence, let alone on the same show?”

Add a cliffhanger, and the magnificent Winkleman, and Aaron is hooked. “With only two episodes a week, it allows time for people to talk about it before it reveals what happens next.”

“Only” two episodes a week? That’s still two too many for me, I’m afraid. Let’s not even talk about the Irish and American versions lurking on iPlayer.

I’ll stick with Strictly, which despite its changes is growing on me. Year on year, I find myself cheering on people in December who had me saying “Who?” in September; I’m sure 2026 will be no different.