In weather news, thanks to good old global warming, we’re now getting heatwaves (would you believe) in the middle of the hay fever season.
Call me old-fashioned but June’s supposed to be wet, isn’t it? We’re supposed to sit indoors saying things like, ‘British Summer Time eh?’ and rolling our eyes as the pansies get drenched and rainwater bounces from the trampoline. So what’s with all this unseasonable heat and sunshine? I mean, it’s supposed to be summer! How about a little British downpour?
Actually, it has rained. The heat brings thunder and so, as each hot afternoon shades over with grey, we’ve had a couple of thunderstorms. It’s not exactly the dribbling June rain we’re used to - it all comes down at once in a thunderstorm. The dark sky flickers, the green trees wave in the sudden cool breeze, then enormous spots of rain blot the concrete. That‘s something.
“Kind of swirls the pollen around though, eh?” said a friend of mine the other day, dolefully looking out of the rain washed window.
“Yeah,” I replied, sniffling.
This whole week is a week of temperatures in the high twenties then. Hot, hot, hot. I keep having to apologise to my wife for saying things out of grumpiness, or from heat-exhaustion; things I don’t mean, that would be ill-advised at the best of times! I was already getting monstrous because of the hay fever; the heat just adds petrol to the barbecue. She’s a wonder. I have lots to learn.
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