We woke to a bright but chilly morning this morning, and condensation on the windows – a sign that for all the warmth of the sun we’re (finally) getting, the end of summer is looming before it has barely got into its stride.
But never mind all that, she says, sticking her fingers into her ears and singing very loudly. For I had a jacket-hat-and-glove-free ride down to the papershop today and there have been very few of those this summer so far. And as I cycled up past one farmyard, I noticed that the steading roof was almost covered in house martins, and they all of them took off at my approach so that the air was filled with their chittering little calls and the flashes of their white rumps in the sunshine.
The fact that I’m sitting here now wishing I had a jumper on, and with darkness outside the window (and it only 9:30pm) is neither here nor there. Summer isn’t over yet … how can it be when it has hardly begun?