turned out nice again

One night less than three weeks ago, Chesham and somewhere in Surrey shared the dubious distinction of having had the lowest overnight temperature in England. We woke to frost-covered roofs and were glad we had brought our hanging baskets into the porch for protection. We had had little rain but skies had usually been grey, interspersed with very few of those warm, sunny days that make people think that the longer hours of daylight really are having a beneficial effect. There were the usual second-wave conversations with friends, after the initial comment on the weather, about how it was hard to know what to wear.

Now everything is different. For the past few days there have been sunny, often cloudless skies and temperatures in the low eighties (or high twenties) over large parts of the country. Last year we were promised a 'barbecue summer' - and any q found trying to pinch the c's place should should be returned to the discotheque where it became confused - but the abuse that rained down on the weather forecasters when we endured another wet summer was largely misplaced, I gather, because apparently it was not the meteorologists who had used the phrase in the first place but a journalist who told us what we were hoping to hear. Not that barbecue summers have any particular appeal, as I am not particularly fond of barbecues, even when my son is skilfully supervising the whole thing. This time we are said to be in for an 'ice cream summer'. That is a far less risky prediction as far as I am concerned, because I am perfectly prepared to enjoy ice cream all the year round, regardless of the temperature. Indeed, when we eat out I am as likely as not to choose ice cream for pudding/dessert/sweet/afters - fight among yourselves - in preference to muctions such as tiramisu, sticky toffee pudding, chocolate mousse or, as we belong to say over to Newlyn, what you mind to.

Already the moaners are complaining about the heat, longing for an end to what will probably be described as Sizzling Britain in tomorrow's papers. I suspect that many of them were complaining after the second fall of snow in the winter, as if any departure from the meanest of average seasonal temperatures indicated that we had somehow become displaced from the Northern Temperate Zone and had no right to be subjected to any departure from the norm. I appreciate that sustained high temperatures can cause severe problems, as can sustained low temperatures and any number of climatic conditions and events over which we can have little or no control, but, perhaps selfishly, I intend to enjoy the long days, the better light - despite the difficulty it causes my cataract-clouded right eye - , and all that goes with them, including, this year, World Cup football, test matches, and meals in the garden. Whatever the meaning, often disputed, of the saying about not casting a clout 'till may be out', I have put away my winter clothes, taken out what I like to regard as my summer wardrobe, including shorts and sandals, and hope the present fine spell lasts until October.