“Summer throws everything it’s got at us then, as if to remind us what it’s all about: dense blue, impenetrable. June is more confused: muddled skies, showers. In June we are reminded, yes, the British summer, this is what it’s like. It’s rubbish, really. Why do we live on this damp island? July is unpredictable: it does it on purpose. It likes to let us know it could go either way, depending on its mood. Most of the time we are philosophical, but every now and then, the odd blasting hot day arr...ives to give us a bit of false hope. In August, a kind of collective stalwartness sets in. Rain lashes down on the Bank Holiday but we are British, we can handle it. We never expected any different. The false hopes of July, the muddled skies of June, even the blank blue of May – none of it had us fooled, not for one minute.It was a long summer, my love. * I try and get out of the house. I go to the Beaufort more often than I need to, considering my full-time post doesn’t start until September.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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